WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
<p>
God has a way of allowing us to be in the right place at the right time.<BR><BR>
I was walking down a dimly lit street late one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to listen, and panicked when
I realized that what I was hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric. Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.
<BR><BR> Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety, and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night. What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone and call the police? <BR><BR>
Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant risking my own life.<BR><BR>
I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know where I found the moral courage and physical strength---but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became strangely transformed. I ran behind
the bushes and pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped. <BR><BR>
Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a distance. <BR><BR>
"It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran away. You're safe now." There was a
long pause and then I heard the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement.<BR><BR>
"Dad, is that you?" And then, from behind the tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.
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