Three Rights

Use Words If Necessary

In the age when faith is under attack like no other time in several generations, the best way to bolster our faith is to live its principals. That became clear to Lori and me last Friday in a way we couldn’t have expected.

Once a month we have a great time fellowshipping with our friends at church with a Friday night of food and games. Last week we spent the better part of an afternoon cooking to get ready for the potluck part of the monthly fellowship. When the time came to leave, we loaded up roasted Brussel sprouts, mashed potato casserole, and deviled eggs into the back of Lori’s van and started for the church building.

We turned onto FM 513 and had only driven a couple of hundred yards when we came to my deer lease and saw something that didn’t look right. There was a beat-up white Toyota Camry stuck in the mud in the middle of the pasture, trying to get unstuck. I had no idea how the car could have gotten into that pasture because the recent four inches of rain we had gotten two nights before had made it impossible to drive in any of the pastures. My first thought was that some redneck must have seen a deer on my lease and pulled into the pasture to shoot it.

We parked at the main gate to the deer lease, and I had to go through a barbed wire fence to get to the white car. As I walked up, I called the lady who owns the property to ask if she knew of anyone who might be there, and she said no. We decided the best course of action was to call the sheriff. With a little anxiety, I decided to find out what was going on first, hoping I didn’t get shot.

I walked up to the car and motioned for the driver to roll down the window and they did. What I saw was not what I expected. The driver was a young woman, and she was obviously in some distress about her situation. She said that she had lost control of her 2022 Toyota Camry and drove through the fence.

I asked if she was ok physically, and she assured me she was. Then my immediate concern was that my friend’s cattle might get out of the pasture through the hole in the fence. I told the woman I needed to check the fence and I would be right back. I waked over a hundred yards back toward our house and found a gaping hole in the fence with only the top strand of barbed wire still intact. I called the landowner, told her the situation, and suggested she call our friend who grazes cattle on the place to fix the fence while I figured out how to help the woman.

When I got back to the car, the woman was on hold with her insurance company. I told her that it could be hours before they could get a wrecker to get her car and offered to either take her to our house to wait or go with us to game night and a potluck meal at church.

At those suggestions, I saw the unmistakable signs of a mother’s concern in her face for just a split second. She said that she was coming from Commerce and driving to Edgewood to her son’s basketball game. She said that he was expecting her to be there and would be disappointed if she didn’t show. It was clear that she was a single mother.

At that moment I knew our plans for the evening had changed. We locked the car, met Lori at the driveway, and drove thirty-five minutes south where we got to see most of the second half of a basketball game which she insisted on paying for. By the way, her son’s team won.

Along the way, the woman explained that she had turned off the lane assist feature on her car and when she got a bad leg cramp, she lost control and went through the fence. After the game we got to our house just in time to meet the wrecker. However, the driver determined it was too muddy for him to pull it out and promised to be back the next day to pull the car.

We took her home to Commerce, about 25 minutes north of us, and she thanked us emphatically for helping her. I know she felt blessed to have someone who came to her aid, as she told us that there was a pickup pulling a trailer that didn’t stop to help. She added that there had been several people who slowed down to look but didn’t stop. She was grateful that Lori and I had stopped to help her. I confessed that the circumstances of her dilemma never occurred to me; I just thought some redneck was poaching on my deer lease.

The next morning, I woke up to a breakfast of deviled eggs, mashed potato casserole and baked Brussel sprouts that were intended for game night. It was weird but not half bad.

As grateful as she was, I know that it could barely compare to the blessing Lori and I felt to be able to live out Jesus’ parable about “The Good Samaritan” and to be reminded of the question he answered: “Who is my neighbor?”

“Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” – Francis of Assisi