Memorial Weekend Memory (True Story)

On Memorial Day weekend in 2010, I had a fun adventure I'd like to share with my readers. While I hope to share the smiles, I also hope one can see how one can be guided to help another anywhere, any time, in more ways than we may realize.

That year, my husband and I decided to spend the long weekend apart; he'd do things that he liked, and I'd drive out to visit friends of mine in Northeastern PA. For some reason, my boss decided to let the employees leave by noon that Friday. So, given that I wanted to avoid the holiday traffic on the drive from New England, through New York State to the Northeastern corner of PA, I found myself heading out a few hours before my planned time.

While I plan things, I love improvidence too. So I decided on the drive out to stop by for a surprise visit with other friends in Carbondale, PA before I went to the home of the friends I had planned to visit out in Wayne County. After all, I had quite a few hours to kill before my anticipated arrival of 9 pm that evening.

I was on the "new highway" (Route 6) where it bypasses downtown Carbondale when I happen to notice a broken-down car, a group of four people, and the tow-truck driver with his truck. So, given I was only minutes from where my friend lived and knew the neighborhood intimately (as I had lived there a number of years myself), I stopped to see if they needed a lift.

It turns out, the four young (18-21 years of age) people were on their way from Brooklyn, NY to some camp in Wayne County PA when their car broke down. As the tow-truck driver only had room for one person, I took the other three and, knowing the location of the tow-truck's shop, said we'd meet them there.

At the garage, they were disheartened to discover that the fix was not an easy one. The car would not be ready for a couple of days as the part needed to be ordered. It was amusing and sad to watch as they tried offering more and more money to get the mechanic to fix the car sooner. They didn't understand that the part really was NOT there in the shop, and no amount of bribing would get them on the road sooner. I also had to argue with the youths several times that the people working on their car were honest; that almost everyone in that area was honest and hard working. They were not "trying to pull a fast one." Ironically, I later discovered the reason their car stopped working was because the young driver didn't believe HIS mechanic in New York when he was told they needed more coolant for the engine; so they cooked it on the drive to PA...

They called several people they knew at this camp, and, to their dismay, discovered only one who would give them a ride from Carbondale to the camp - for $300! Both the tow-truck driver and I were horrified by this, and we both offered to give them a ride. Wayne County was just "over the mountain" and not worth $300 in gas. The tow-truck driver, however, has an appointment near Scranton, first, and could drive them out in his car afterward. It would be another two hours before he returned.

It turns out, the youth couldn't wait that long as they needed to be at the camp by sunset, for religious observations. So, I loaded all four and an amazing amount of luggage for just a weekend into my Jeep with myself. I noted, though, as I'm playing a manual version of 3-D tetris with the four youth and their belongings, that if my husband HAD been with me on this trip I would never be able to help them now. I had only myself and one bag and we barely squeezed in with stuff on everyone's laps save mine.

The next several hours were interesting, especially given that a point-to-point drive should have only taken a half-hour or less.

First, the youth discovered that technology is only as good as the signal; and there was absolutely NO AT&T signals in northern Wayne County then. My Verizon cell was iffy at best, but I only own a cheapie flip phone, with no GPS or internet like their newest iPhones had. And my '99 Jeep was far older than that. Thus with the GPS and internet maps gone, I asked them for directions as we navigated the rural back roads past cows, woods and open pastures that looked quite reminiscent of Farmville to them. They tried to decipher some limited directions via email but kept referring back to the last GPS coordinates they had. We finally get to the bottom of the email where it read, "Do not use GPS coordinates as they will not get you to the camp."

So, about 3 miles south of PA's northern border, I pull the car aside and ask the young woman in the passenger side to pull out one of many PAPER maps I had of PA. I wish I had taken a picture of the look on her face at that moment. No one considered the antediluvian method of looking at a paper map to find where they are and where they want to go! Worse, when I read off the cross-roads of the two rural route numbers where we had stopped, plus the last "four-corners" town we passed before, she didn't have a clue how to read the map. So I spent the next five minutes teaching four "kids" how to read a paper map, how to find where we were, and an approximation of where we need to go, knowing the name of the private camp will not be listed on the map.

It turns out we had gone about 20 miles too far north, and while turning around, discovered they had entered the wrong "Lakeville" into the GPS. So we drove back to the nearest four-corners, which had an open-air Bar-B-Que. I pulled in and suggested we get out and get some directions. There was a bit of hesitation, which I didn't understand right away. But when I started to get out, one of the young men bravely leapt from the Jeep and ran ahead of me. I approached the nearest table just in time to hear the last of the directions. ".... then once you pass the church, it's the next left, if you come to the fire house, you've missed it."

This was vague but typical directions from the area. There was no street name, also typical. I asked the young man if he understood the directions and could get us there; he nodded. We were off again. Twenty minutes later, we found the turn, which turned out to the be back road into the camp, but it wasn't marked on the paper map. Thus, my four passengers were VERY uncomfortable with taking this unpaved, unknown road that disappeared very quickly into dense wooded area like something out of a Blair Witch movie. So I continued with our map toward where we believed the front entrance to the camp is.

 It was then that my Jeep pointed out that I have very lousy gas mileage and, as I last filled the tank in New England, she was pinging me to remind me to feed her.

Aware that I had limited range, and the nearest gas station known to me was Honesdale, about 20 minutes south of the camp, I took matters into my own hand. I saw a house where there was a pick-up in the driveway and the inner front door was open. I pulled into the driveway, much to the dismay of my passengers and marched up to the front door. They rolled down the windows and called from safety of the Jeep that I was insane to walk up to a stranger's house like this. While I also grew up under the shadows of New York City skyscrapers and understood their fears, I also lived a decade in this part of the world and knew the people here. I was fine.

An old lady called out for me to enter, and my passengers nearly had a conniption as I opened the screen door and calmly let myself in. Remarkably, I had chosen just the right place to stop. While they did not recognize the name of the camp, the old man was once a volunteer firefighter in the area. While he only knew the local roads by local name, the old lady pulled out a detailed map. Voila! We were able to see the property marks of the camp and backtracked down the local roads to where we were. So I now had very accurate directions, which I wrote down with a pencil and piece of paper the old lady was kind enough to provide.

The next ten minutes were the most amusing of all. I was able to follow detailed turn-by-turn directions, right down to barn silos and major bumps in the road. The youth were amazed that someone not only let a stranger into their home - an old defenseless couple at that! - but gave such great directions without asking for money. In addition, they kept asking me, at every "ping" from my low-fuel warning system, what happens if I run out of gas. They realized - with growing dread - that the last time they saw a gas station was way back in Carbondale. They could not grasp the fact that a stranger would not only stop to help us if we ran out of gas, but would most likely give us some gas so we could get to the nearest station.

The bigger issue would be they had a time deadline, and there was no guarantee we'd be able to get them to the camp before sunset if I ran out of gas. The sun's angle was getting quite low; we were cutting this close. I didn't need them to worry more, so I simply kept telling them, "have a little faith."

On the final stretch, we encountered several other cars pulled on the sides of the dusty unpaved road, while one person or another was out of the car holding up their iPhone or similar device trying to get a signal that wasn't there. The youths and I told them, car by car, "Follow us, we have the good directions." By the time we pulled through the gates of the camp, we had nine other cars following us, and many happy people who all needed to be there before sunset.

As the youths, thanked me, they asked for my FaceBook or Twitter account so they could "friend" me. I didn't give them my FaceBook name, and was a bit hesitant to give them my Twitter name as well. But, just as I was pulling away, a bit of mischief tugged at the corner of my mind and I thought, why not... I pulled aside, jotted my Twitter account on a piece of paper, drove back and handed it to them.

I knew they were young Jews, and this was a Jewish camp; the Hebrew letters at the camp's entrance confirmed that as much as the yamakas on the two young men. But that really didn't matter as I was just one human being helping another, a "Good Samaritan" one would say. My young passengers took the slip of paper and read it. And as I drove away, I wondered if they would recall their adventures to others that night around a campfire. And when asked who helped them, they may or may not say that I'm @JesusSister on Twitter. :D

In case you're wondering, yes, I somehow managed to get to Honesdale for gas. It was after sunset (about 8:30pm) by then. While I was pumping gas, my friend who was expecting me called to see if I was nearby and if I wanted dinner. I arrived just a few minutes before 9pm - the expected time.

~ Had I not gotten out early
~ Had I not gone without my husband
~ Had I not previously lived in that area
~ Had I not, on a whim, decided to visit a friend
~ Had I not made plans to arrive late that night at another's
~ Had I not randomly stopped at that particular house for directions
~ Had I not had faith in God and other good hearts of the people there

None of this adventure would have happened as it unfolded.
But I'm glad it did.

- ESA

Let We Forget...

This weekend, America celebrates Memorial Day.

While there is ever-increasing focus on the military, I'd like to take a moment to also note - and thank - others who give life and limb in a different line of service.

Firefighters

Both paid and volunteer firefighters are the primary responders to fires, accidents and many other calls, ranging from routine to bizarre.

They put their life on the line many times, from entering blazing buildings and forest fires, to working at roadway accidents on rainy nights, to entering icy waters.

In addition to helping fellow man, they are also called to rescue animals from family pets, to farm livestock, to a wide variety of wildlife.

Some leave loved ones in the middle of dinner or the dead of night to answer the call, and never come home again...

Police

Police officers and auxiliary volunteers, put themselves at risk, from high-speed chases and gunfire, to domestic fights and bomb responses, from mass evacuations to search and rescue.

Many officers are killed in line of action; some even when they simply walk to help a disabled motorist and are struck by a distracted driver.

EMT and Paramedics

These ambulance crews are mostly volunteers across this country, yet they put themselves at risk on a regular basis.

They race through traffic, where impatient drivers may ignore the siren and jump out into their way; they work roadside at accidents with cars whizzing past.

Many don't realize that these dedicated men and women also go into very dangerous situations, such as over the side of a cliff or into dangerous neighborhoods to help the fallen or sick.

I didn't realize the extent of danger until a New York City Paramedic friend walked up in bullet-proof vest. She told us that on many calls where someone was shot, the bullets are still flying when they arrive...

Rescue Workers and
First Responders

This includes those who go into dangerous situations immediately following a tornado, flood, hurricane, tsunami, earthquake or similar.

They brave churning waters, collapsing debris, open gas lines, and/or flames to help complete strangers. 

In times of emergency, often these people are NOT the trained emergency responders, but simply caring hearts who first arrive on the scene and realize that someone needs help! 

And the most important...

The Peacemakers and
Human Rights Activists 

These bold hearts who stand up for others, often those who cannot do so themselves. Some face ostracization, job loss and prison; some pay the full price with their lives.

Over these recent years, there are many reports from around the world where people die protesting against unfair or inhumane leaders and/or laws. 

 We in United States should not forget our own similarly fallen. Our largest generation, the Baby Boomers, lived through a time when many people ~ men and women, black and white ~ were injured and died simply because they stated in words and non-aggressive actions that treating another human being differently is WRONG. 

Some, likewise, died on American soil while protesting for Peace during a time of war. 

On this Memorial Day Weekend, in addition to fallen military, may we remember those who have NEVER raised a hand to harm another, but lost life or limb in helping others and in making this a better world. 

Not just those in the United States, but all those around the world...

In Memoriam

~ESA

Squish!

Among the appointments I had in a very busy work-week, I squeezed in my routine mammogram. Or as I like to joke among the ladies at work, "I took a break from the office to go SQUISH!"

Between my personal biology and family history, I've a number of medical "factors" that create high breast-cancer risk, so I dutifully go at least once per year - often once every six months, as they continually find new and exciting things in those black and white images - starting with my baseline when I was 35 years of age.

Am I worried that I'll get breast cancer? No.

Odds are I will get it. It's a matter of when rather than if. But I'm not worried at all. Really!

My mother, in her 70's, is a breast cancer survivor, both breasts; she was diagnosed in her very early 40's. It's actually one of the most treatable forms of cancer; one just needs to go for checkups and routine exams. The earlier anything is caught, the better the chances. The rest is all about attitude!

Do I have it now? I don't know. They are watching suspicious masses that bounce along with me on a daily basis. I await the official reading from the medical techs at the hospital and the standard letter that indicates if they want me to follow up the breast surgeon (again).

There are women that panic and swear they are going to die from the minute anything remotely suggests breast cancer. This is even before the first biopsy. In my family, we look the doctor in the eye and say, "OK. What are we going to do about it?"

If something does come of this or any new malformation, God and family will see me through.

I may suffer for a time; I may become sick. I may loose my hair. But it is something I can live through. I can get through acute chronic pain and sickness; the last few years have proven that.

There are worries I could have: How do I do my job while going through treatments? What if something were to go wrong? What if the treatment doesn't work? What if the cancer spreads?

What if I die...?

Should I even bother to worry about this? After all, I could get hit by a car walking home today with the same results.

I try to live every moment as if it's my last. I try to Let Go and Let GOD, giving God my Trust. And if I die, should I be worried? I have a pretty good idea where I am going...

No I am not worried. I understand that worry is a part of fear. I know that Fear is a tool of the adversary to hinder our spirits. I do not fear this - at all.

I have seen devastating results when people do fear it.

But I look fear in the eye and laugh at it!

Let's see how far they can turn my double-D's into pancakes before they squish out the other side of the machine. :P

After all, they have already sagged a bit over the years...

~ ESA

Bar-Mitzvah

I want to share an impactful tweet with my readers, sent from Rabbi Joseph Chaim Levine (@Rabbi224). "Full spiritual maturity is a life-long mission. The Bar-Mitzvah marks the end of training and the beginning of battle."

While I saw wisdom in these words when I first read it yesterday, something also blossomed in my mind while I responded to the tweets this morning.

Yeshua/Jesus is Jewish, and likewise had His Bar-Mitzvah after years-long study. The only point of Christ's early years that we have in the Gospels today is a time shortly after His Bar-Mitzvah, or so one may surmise as He was 12 years of age.

Every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. When he was twelve years old, they went up to the festival, according to the custom. After the festival was over, while his parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it. Thinking he was in their company, they traveled on for a day. Then they began looking for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they went back to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. Everyone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished. His mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you.” “Why were you searching for me?” he asked. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:41-49)

The first Gospel account where Yeshua/Jesus starts to reveal Who He is and His purpose is following His Bar-Mitzvah. The battle for our souls had begun.

And our part in it continues all through our life.

~ ESA