Many things happen in life that can’t be explained. Sometimes you need to take responsibility for what
has occurred.
At other times, you have no clue what is happening. And then you are accused of . . .
Throwing
Caution To The Wind
My gun
rested on the end table next to the living room couch. We’d been having brutal
break-ins in the neighborhood lately and I wanted to protect myself. As I sat
contemplating what else I needed to do to feel safe, the doorbell rang.
Should I answer it? I thought. Probably.
It was morning and the break-ins were occurring at night. So I got up from the
couch, took my gun just in case, and went to the door. Grabbing the handle, I
pulled it open. Staring at me was a bearded man dressed in shabby clothes, with
a ragged knapsack hanging over his left shoulder.
“Can I
help you?” I asked.
“I need
to borrow your car,” he mumbled.
“Borrow my
car? What for?”
“To go
see my daughter.”
“Where is
she?”
“I don’t
know, but the voices in the wind told me she needs me.”
“Voices
in the wind?” Where is this ridiculous
request coming from? I reflected. “What are you talking about? What
voices?”
“They are
God’s way of making my life right. I must follow them. So give me your keys,”
he demanded.
I looked
at my 2008 Camry sitting in the driveway. I didn’t even know if it had gas in
it. With current prices going through the roof, I hadn’t filled the tank in
weeks.
“Did you
hear me?” the bedraggled man queried, in a gravelly voice that made me shake.
“Yes,” I
muttered.
“Then
what are you waiting for?”
“I can’t
give you my car. I don’t know who the hell you are. And why did you knock on my
door?”
“Because He told me too.”
“He?
Who’s he?” The man didn’t answer and just stood there looking off into the
clouds.
“Okay,
I’ll let him know.”
“Let who
know? Who are you talking to?” The crazy guy didn’t respond.
Appearing
uncomfortable that he wasn’t getting what he wanted, he dropped his knapsack on
the ground and clenched his fists in way that made me cringe. I didn’t know
what to expect next. I wanted to slam the door in his face, but I didn’t have
the guts to do so.
He
started trembling and stared at me, with sadness in his eyes. He looked lost.
“Help me, please.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. “My daughter needs me.”
I don’t
know where my next words came from, but I mustered up the courage and said, “I
can’t give you my car, but I’ll drive you. Just tell me where we need to go.”
“Home.”
Now I was
more confused. Home? He didn’t look like he had one. “Where’s home?” I asked.
He lifted
his head and looked into the sky. Then he pointed straight up. “What are you
trying to tell me?”
“He knows.”
“He knows
what? Where you live?” He shook his head.
As crazy
as all this appeared, my fear seemed to be lessening. I don’t know why, but I
had to help this man.
I grabbed
my coat off the rack next to the door, stuck the gun I’d been holding all this
time into my pocket, and closed the front door. Then I picked up the sad
creature’s knapsack and ushered him to my car.
He
crawled into the passenger seat and I threw his knapsack onto the back seat.
Then I slowly walked to the driver’s side and got in. I put the key in the
ignition and just sat there. What do I do
now? I thought.
I looked
at my passenger, bent over, with his chin resting on the dashboard. “Where are
we going?” I asked.
“To find
my daughter,” he replied.
“But how
do I get there?”
“Just go.
He will show you.”
So I
turned on the ignition, pulled out of the driveway and headed down Logan Way,
not having a clue where I was heading. When I reached the corner, the car
seemed to be pulling to the right. Not wanting to challenge this mysterious
force, I turned onto Ferris Drive, and drove cautiously down the street.
As I
approached the next intersection, I could see my “copilot” becoming antsy. He
couldn’t sit still. “Are you all right?” I questioned.
“My
daughter will get you,” he mumbled.
“What do
you mean? Why will she get me?”
“You did
it to her.”
“Did
what?”
“Keep
driving.”
“No, I
need to stop.”
“You
can’t. He won’t let you.”
“Who is
he? Tell me, or I won’t go any further.”
“You have
no choice.”
My hands
began to shake, as the car seemed to be driving itself. I decided to turn at
the intersection, but the car rejected my efforts. What the crap is happening? I thought.
I put my
foot on the brake, but the car kept going. “Who are you and what are you doing
to me?”
“He is in control. You must pay for your
sins.”
“Pay for
my sins? What sins? And even if I had any, how do they involve you?”
“My
daughter will get you for what you did.”
“I have
no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Turn
right at the light.”
“Why?”
“Do as I
say. It is what He wants.”
“He,
who?”
The car
veered to the right onto Celebration Lane. There certainly was nothing to
celebrate from my point of view. And then my heart began to beat out of
control. Staring ahead, what I saw blew me away—the open gates to “God’s
Forever Afterlife Cemetery.”
“What is
this? Why am I here?”
“This is
where you belong.”
“You’re
kidding. Aren’t you?”
“You took
her life and now I will take yours and deliver you to Him.”
“Took her
life? Whose life?”
“My
daughter.”
“Your
daughter. I don’t know your daughter.”
“Yes, you
do. She was your student. She believed in you. But you let her down.”
“Let her
down. But how?”
“She went
to your office for help that afternoon. You told her you were busy and couldn’t
see her. You said she needed an appointment. She pleaded with you and you
ignored her. That night, she jumped off the Madison Avenue bridge. My only
child—dead! My wife threw me out after you killed her. I have nothing left.”
“I would
never kill anybody.” I reached for my gun in my jacket pocket, but . . .
“Are you
looking for this?”
“You’re
not going to . . .”
“Come
with me,” He said. “It wasn’t your
fault. You could not have known what would happen when you told Elizabeth you
were not available and that she needed to make an appointment. But to her
father, you threw caution to the wind. Rest easy, my son. You will be at peace
now—forever.”
Copyright © 2022 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
