On being rescued, paying attention and advice from a guardian angel

I wasn’t paying attention. I was jogging along, lost in my own thoughts, and out of nowhere, these dogs came charging toward me. Teeth bared, they bounded from their nearby yard growling and barking. I was jolted out of my trance, but I froze and panicked. The sidewalk was narrow; cars zooming by on one side and rabid dogs racing at me from the other. I quickly realized I was trapped.

My immediate, well-thought-out response was to scream and jump into the street away from the dogs. Approaching traffic, however, was unaware of my plight.  But, as soon as I screamed and stepped toward the road, someone grabbed me and shoved me away from the traffic and into a bush.

This person yelled wildly at the dogs and wielded as a weapon the biggest walking stick I have ever seen. The dogs cowered under the threat of that stick, and thankfully their owner came running after them.

I sat dumbfounded in the middle of a holly bush and contemplated how I had just been rescued from a near-fatal injury by a mystery man with a big stick. It felt like an episode of The Flash.

The owner of the dogs got control of his pets and sheepishly apologized for their behavior. “They should’ve been tied up,” he tried to explain.

My rescuer wasn’t falling for it. He waved his stick at the dog owner’s face and pointed at me. “She could have been killed if I wasn’t here!” he yelled. “Those dogs are a hazard!”

My rescuer helped me to my feet, yelled a little more at the guy with the dogs and offered to walk with me for a bit.

I steadied myself and then turned to take a good look at this mystery man who had just saved my life.

The edges of his white hair stuck out from under his faded baseball cap, his shiny red University of Georgia jacket was buttoned all the way up from the waist of his white-washed blue jeans to his neck. And his spryness was powered by his velcroed-on white Nike tennis shoes.

“I’m probably not exactly what you thought your guardian angel would look like am I?” he laughed. “Think less  Superman and more Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life.”

I burst out laughing. The resemblance was uncanny. And of course, Clarence would be a Georgia fan!

He walked with me down the sidewalk until I stopped shaking. The more I thought about what had just happened; the more I couldn’t stop thanking him.

Finally, he stopped and looked me straight in the eye, ” It’s why I carry this big stick with me when I walk. I never know who might be in danger. You’re not the first one I’ve rescued from those foul dogs. People are in danger everywhere, my dear. If we would only open our eyes and see, we could help them. It’s also useful to walk softly and carry a big stick.” 

He was impressed that I knew Teddy Roosevelt had said that. He patted me on the shoulder, suggested that I run a different route to get home and meandered off whistling and swinging that walking stick.

It’s been years since this incident happened. The guy with the crazy dogs has moved away, but that guardian angel of mine?  Well, my modern day Clarence still walks our neighborhood pathways every day. He waves his stick in the air at me whenever we pass. He and I  holler pleasantries at each other, and he reminds me to pay attention.

Pay. Attention. Look. Up. Look out and see. In our world, it can be a hard thing to do. It’s hard enough to pay attention to our own lives let alone the lives of those around us.

Each time I pass my friend on the road, though, I am reminded of how his attention saved me all those years ago. He didn’t know me. He had no reason to help me.

But he had seen my danger, and knowing  he had a weapon that could fight against it, he had run toward me.

He rescued me from a danger I didn’t even know existed.

“God rescued us from dead-end alleys and dark dungeons. He’s set us up in the kingdom of the Son he loves so much, the Son who got us out of the pit we were in, got rid of the sins we were doomed to keep repeating” (Colossians 1:13-14 MSG).

Eugene Peterson’s take on Colossians 1:13 runs right through my head. And I realize how often I take my rescue for granted. I take the safety of my soul and the souls of others as a given, and I jog right through my day not giving it much thought.

This season of Lent reminds me, though,  just like passing my friend on the street does, that a rescue is a beautiful thing. It floods my heart with gratitude and blows wind into my spirit that daily life can suck right out of me.

Being rescued will do that to you.

And walking these familiar pathways aware of my rescue changes what I see. My friendly neighbor saved me not because I deserved it, or earned it or was particularly good at anything, but simply because I was in danger. And I am reminded of another rescue I don’t deserve. 

“But God showed his great love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us”

Jesus, though? Jesus rescues me; he rescues you “from dead-ends and dark dungeons; from the sins, we are doomed to keep repeating” … because he loves us. 

It’s a love that overwhelms me. And when I look out at the world remembering that I have been rescued by a love that great, I can’t help but keep my eyes open for others who might need a rescue as well.

“People are in danger everywhere, my dear. If we would only open our eyes and see, we could help them. It’s also useful to walk softly and carry a big stick.” 

Thanks, Clarence.

Amen!