Sunday Morning Angel

My ears perked as I was casually conversing with a friend. She shared with me a heartfelt story of how she recently witnessed a car accident on the highway and stopped to help a young girl who had been involved. I was jealous as she told me what happened, and I genuinely reacted in joy to the way that she was used to be a blessing to this scared girl. What an amazing opportunity!

Weeks later my husband and I were less than five minutes away from church on a Sunday morning. We came up on a large intersection and the light was out. Suddenly we noticed one car in the middle of the road, and another off to the side. Something didn’t feel right. I realized the truth and did everything except jump out of the car. Kevin mentioned that there must have JUST been an accident, and per my intense and sudden command, he pulled our car into the 7-11 gas station to the right. I grabbed my phone out of my bag, stuck it into my jean’s back pocket and took off running. Another man was a few steps behind me and yelled out, “My wife called 911!” I crossed the median and ran towards a redheaded woman who looked to be in her 30’s. She was holding a baby, standing beside a smashed up car. In my peripheral, I saw an elderly man in his Sunday best, slowly creeping out of the driver’s seat of his SUV stopped in the middle of the intersection. From 30 feet away, I could see bright red blood on the cuff of his sleeve. “He’s walking.” I thought. “He’s going to be alright.” It could have been much worse.

The woman’s small, black car had smashed into the electrical box at the corner of the intersection and knocked out the traffic lights. The electrical box to this day is still smashed inward, bearing the scar of this very accident.

My attention turned to a young mom, clutching her 6 month old son in her arms. She had long red, curly hair tied back in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans. Her day had started out normal. Just another Sunday morning. The baby was calm as could be and didn’t have a scratch on him. I rushed to her side. “My name is Kim. Are you okay?” She was flustered and told me her name and that she had just dropped her husband off at work down the road. Mental note- her husband is nearby. “What happened?” The words couldn’t come out fast enough. “I was driving in the right lane, and I know my light was green! He just cut right in front of me, and I didn’t have any time to react. I know the light was green, he hit me!” She wasn’t furious; she was traumatized. She held her son so close, and we talked about him. He had cried for a few minutes after it happened, but she was beyond thankful that he was okay. She pressed his little face to hers, and a few tears escaped.

She was taller and bigger than me, but I stood close to her and rubbed her shoulder and arms with my hand. At this point I figured she needed more comfort than personal space.  “Can I call your husband for you? Do you need anything from the car?” I retrieved her phone from the car and quickly figured out how to call her husband. “Hello?” I suddenly felt like a professional. “Sir, I am here with your wife. She has been in an accident, but she and the baby are okay.” He didn’t want to talk to me, and I handed her the phone. I took a quick peek in the car to see if there was anything else valuable, and laid a few things near her feet. A gallon of water had busted in the backseat and trickled into the carpet. I found a CD case with dozens of CD’s and began to wipe the water off. She looked down at what I was doing. “Oh yeah, sorry. We’re old school.” I found some baby toys, and we also popped the trunk for needed items. Who knows when she was going to be seeing this car next?

Paramedics arrived and got right to work sweeping the glass from the street and moving the other vehicle from the middle of the intersection. They were working so fast and got the place cleaned up and traffic directed around the crash. They were efficient, kind, and strong men and women. At one point they used brute force to move some metal part of the car back into place.  We were impressed.

After she gave her statement to the police, she was back by herself again. I looked at the red wound on her collarbone from the seatbelt. “I have some cream and medicine. Do you want Advil or Tylenol?” My dad always had packets of medicine with him, and it became a habit for me, too. Kevin brought me my bag, and I pulled out some anti-biotic cream and pills. The initial shock had worn off, and her neck was starting to get sore. I applied the cream on the few cuts and scrapes she had, and she swallowed some pills to ease the pain.

We surveyed the scene, and things were dying down. Her husband finally showed up and wondered who we were. “Are these the people that hit you?” She came quickly to our defense. “No! They came and helped. They have been nothing but help.” I smiled. This was our queue. I hugged her and rubbed her sweet baby’s hand. She looked into my eyes. “Thank you so much. I was so scared. I am just glad my baby is okay. Thank you for everything.” I welcomed her thanks but felt nothing more than gratitude myself that I was able to be there at the split second that she needed me. On that day, in that moment, I was a First Responder. I sprinted to be by her side, because I knew that she needed someone. I wanted to be that someone. 

I wanted to be her Angel.