Serendipity

It was an ordinary weekday morning. Sometimes when my wife is working I get irritated staying home alone. So, as a preventive measure, I usually attend the morning Mass. Of course, I benefit from the Mass in many ways, and I realize that my motivation for attending should be more noble. This particular day, after the Mass, I went to the Parish Office to make an appointment to see the Pastor concerning a personal problem.

Entering the office, I stood at the counter in the vestibule looking for the secretary. Seeing no one, I said “hello” rather loudly. Then out of sight, but within hearing range, I heard a weak response, “I’ll be with you soon, please be seated and wait.” I sat; I waited. I could hear the secretary talking, sometimes in an elevated tone. I assumed it was a personal call on her cell phone because I could see the landline on her desk just on the other side of the counter where she was supposed to be.

After what seemed like a long wait, I was impatient. I stood up, leaned over the counter hoping to catch her eye and invite her back to her work. She was nowhere to be seen, but everywhere to be heard as she enthusiastically pursued her cell phone conversation. As I was leaning over the counter, another parishioner suddenly entered the vestibule. She was extremely nervous and almost in a panic. She said, “I need a phone, Please, I need a phone, now!” “Good luck with that,” I thought as I looked at the landline on the desk, and realized that the secretary was still incommunicado. The tip of my cell phone was obviously easily visible from my side pocket because the young woman in distress asked to use it.  “Of course,” I said, handing her my phone. She grasped it like I had handed her a winning lottery ticket.

The vestibule was small; she turned her back to me seeking some privacy in her conversation where there was none. I overheard only part of her problem because she was now in a panic, jabbering, loudly, almost irrationally in her attempt to resolve her problem with the person to whom she was speaking. From what I could gather she could not access “her keys” which she desperately needed. Before I could ask her how I could help. She turned to me and said, “I’ll be right back; I’ll leave you this,” tossing her fanny pack onto the chair beside me she bolted out the door with my phone before I could respond.

I just sat there in the vestibule, listening off and on to the secretary still on her phone at the far end of the office, wondering whether or not I had done the right thing by allowing the young, desperate woman to run off with my phone! I picked up the fanny pack, my collateral, it was light and probably empty. I waited about ten minutes, then concluded that perhaps my phone was gone and that I had been duped.

Amazingly, through all this commotion the office secretary remained committed to her private conversation at the far end of the parish office. I had no access to another phone to call my phone unless I hopped over the counter; the thought crossed my mind. Instead, I decided to go and look for the “phone thief.” If she was on the premises, I was determined to find her. I headed for the front parking lot. Perhaps she was sitting in her car enjoying more privacy in conversation with her new phone.

I started walking hoping for some type of resolve. When I arrived, I saw only one car in the entire parking lot. Approaching the car, I saw her clutching a long stick or broken tree limb. She didn’t seem to notice me as I walked closer. She just stood there staring intently at the car. Then she began banging the front passenger window with heavy bursts of energy only resulting in a broken, useless stick.

Turning to me she spoke in a familiar tone, as though I were a long-lost friend coming to save her. As she started to cry, she said, “My baby is in the car; the doors are locked; she can’t get out!” Dropping the broken stick, she continued, “ I called 911; I called my husband; I can’t break the window. I don’t know what to do!” Immediately, I told her we needed to pray. And I prayed the “Our Father.” My presence seemed to calm her. Wanting to help her, I said, “I’ll help you break the window if we must.” Having said that I had no idea how it could be done.

Looking around the parking lot I noticed that it was well-maintained. There were no rocks, stones, stray bricks, or anything out of place, nor anything heavy, blunt, or useful for breaking windows. Of course, I kept this to myself wanting to assure her that I would help in any way I could. Then, I said, “Let’s wait a few minutes before we break the window.” Before she could answer we heard sirens coming our way, and within two minutes two police cars pulled up.  Mumbling I said to myself, ”Thanks be to God.”   

The police officers looked at the child through the side window; they could see her moving, which was a good sign. Also, the temperature was warm, not hot, which gave us all a little more time. Then, one of the officers asked, “Do you want us to break a window?”  She replied, without the panic in her voice, that her husband had just called; he was minutes away. Could we wait?  “ Five minutes, no more than that,” responded another police officer. During those five long minutes, a fire truck arrived with a medical team intact. They in turn looked through the window at the child, felt the heat of the sun on the car, and agreed to wait the remaining two minutes. We waited.

The husband with a remote key switch in hand pulled into the parking lot; immediately opened all the doors. The police officer took the child from the car and handed her to the mother. The father, mother and child moved slightly away as they caressed, cried, and prayed. Sensing their need for privacy with each other and with God, the rescuing authorities allowed them this time together. Then they took the child towards the fire truck for a medical evaluation and began to question the mother to complete their report.

Thanking me, she and her husband handed me my phone. I said, “Goodbye; God Bless you,” and left. As I was walking from the front to the rear parking lot, where my car was parked, a thousand questions rushed into my mind. What if I hadn’t been there, or my phone had been dead? Or, what if I had forgotten my phone and left it in the car, as I often do? Or what if I had decided to go straight home instead of to the Parish Office after my Holy half-hour? What if? What if? What if? Then the main question came to the surface, boldly and demandingly. If I had not been available to help that woman in distress, would the result have been the same or different?

Of course, I’ll never know the answer existentially because the event cannot be repeated. But as a question of Faith, I needed a solution. So, I went to my car; sat there, and asked God some of these questions. His answers satisfied me then as they do now. First answer: of course, God used me to help this young woman in distress especially since I had previously asked Him to use me in any way he chose-anytime, anywhere. “I am here Lord to serve,” I’ve said this many times in my previous prayers. Then I asked the Lord one more “What If ” question: “What if my cell phone had zero battery, then what?” And the second answer came to me “loud and clear” that “Plan B was always in place.”

I helped to save someone’s life that day. I felt good, useful, even essential, and  I went home in peace with a profound “Thanks be to God.”