Jesus Saves

I am adding a story from the Sugarland weekend for foreshadowing purposes of today's blog. And, no, I haven't forgotten part two: The Sugarland Concert. Time travel to a different dimension where I am waiting in the hotel lobby for Stefan to arrive with our luggage.

After waiting for seven minutes I decide to venture out to the parking lot to see what is taking him so long. And to help pull luggage, since my packing motto is "if it fits in the car I'm bringing it."

I arrive in the parking lot to find him just getting to the sidewalk with the bags.

"What happened?" I ask.

"This lady's car was stuck on the parking block and I moved it for her," he explains.

"You got in her car?" I ask thinking I misunderstood what he said.

"Yes," he says proudly.

"How old was she?" I ask.

What I didn't ask, but wondered to myself was; was she hot, was it Jennifer Nettles? Those questions, as well as others, I kept to myself.

And now without further ado today's blog.

I was finishing up my shower early, around 4:30 pm. Normally, I don't take a shower before 8:30 or 9 at night. Tonight Stefan had Back to School Night duties, so I got a head start since I was going to be a single parent for the evening.

Suddenly, I heard a scream from next door. Being auditorily voyeuristic, I listened more closely. What I heard set off my sympathetic nervous system, the body's emergency preparation program.

"Get ready to call 911," I yell to Stefan as I run through the kitchen.

"Where are the kids?" he asks as he finds each one.

"Be careful," I say running out of the house not knowing and worrying about what we were going to find.

He lags behind with the 911 call and soon realizes the limitations of a home cordless phone.

When I get to the scene and see our neighbor, I know I am going to be useless.

"Do something!" I scream at Stefan.

"Sir, you're breaking up, the 911 dispatch says. You need to get closer to the base of your phone."

"Stefan get over here now!" I yell hysterically.

Stefan directs me to the phone and runs to the scene, arriving to find our neighbor being pinned in the driver's door. Her car had rolled down the driveway partially into the garage, and our neighbor was wedged in the door of the car basically being suffocated by sheer force.

Stefan attempts to push the car out of the garage, but the car won't budge. I said he was Jesus, not Superman.

He then tries to open a car door, but all the doors are locked, luckily the back hatch is unlocked and he flies into the car. OK, maybe he has a little Superman up in him.

"I checked and listened for breathing and there wasn't any, says Stefan. Her face was blue and I knew I had to get her out immediately so she could breathe."

Fortunately, the keys were in the ignition so he was able to start the car. He put the car in reverse, slowly backing out of the garage a few inches at a time, releasing her body from the grip of the door. With help he places her on the ground safely and gently.

At this point, she is blue, and foam is coming out of her mouth. She isn't breathing. Fortunately, she has a pulse, . He turns her head to the side and clears her mouth of the frothy sputum, a mix of saliva and mucous from the respiratory tract.

"She's breathing," he exclaims!

Five minutes later the police arrive. Another three or four minutes, the paramedics and fire department are on the scene.

Stefan's job is done, with the exception of relaying his side of the story to the reporting officer. But he still has to return to work for Back to School Night.

"Please, don't go to Back to School Night," I plead.

"I will have to phone 100 parents if I don't go," he says in a tone I know can't be swayed by my begging.

"You just saved some one's life," I say still shaking from the adrenaline. He just shrugs his shoulders and laughs.

All in a day's work for Super Jesus, I suppose.