Am I Gonna Die?
It was just after noon on a late May day a few years ago. My younger sister Jill was scheduled to graduate from UMBC (summa cum laude in English!!) and the ceremony was about to take place at an arena on Howard Street. My dad was driving his car, and the passengers were my three children and me. We were making good time (for a change) and had maybe 25 minutes to find a parking space.
We were on Howard Street, a one-way street with three or four lanes. We were in the next-to-the-right-hand lane. Traffic was thick but steady. The sun was blinding overhead and the Baltimore air was typically hot and humid.
As we crept along, there was a tan SUV to our right, and we were both about 50 yards from the intersection. Jsut then I saw a group of black kids horsing around on the curb. In a split second I saw one boy step into the street and then I heard a squeal and a thud.
"Daddy, stop the car! I think that boy just got hit! Pull over!" My dad complied without question. I jumped out of the car and ran around the stopped SUV to witness a young black boy lying on his back in the street, next to the curb. He was conscious and talking. The driver and her passenger were clearly shaken, saying something about not seeing him, it happened so fast.
Immediately I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.
"Hi, honey," I said to the stricken boy (hoping my voice wasn't shaking). I felt calm but yet there was a sense of urgency about his possible injuries. He was moaning and holding his abdomen. Bits of gravel stuck to his palms.
"Am I gonna die?" he asked me.
"No, honey. You're going to be okay. What's your name?"
"Terrell," he said. "What's yours?"
"My name is Miss Zo and I'm here to help you."
"Are you an angel?"
"No, I'm not an angel, but God has sent me to you to tell you He loves you."
" Am I gonna die?"
I repeated, "No, you're okay, just hurt. May I pray for you?"
"I can't see!" he said. "I can't see you!" My immediate thought was that he had a concussion from hitting the pavement so hard, and that it was affecting his vision. Then I observed again that the sun was directly overhead so I blocked it with my body.
"Now I can see!" he said, relieved. "You wanna pray for me?"
"Yes I do. Will you hold my hand?" I wiped the gravel away gently and prayed out loud. By this time a small crowd had gathered and I could hear sirens approaching. I prayed a simple prayer asking God that Terrell would feel better soon, that He would give peace to him and his brothers, peace to the driver, and wisdom to the paramedics.
One of the bystanders was a white man in his 50s, I'd say, and he was hovering over the boy. The man's hair was silvery white.
Again Terrell asked, "Am I gonna die?"
Holding a lock of white hair away from his head, the man said, "No, you won't die till your hair turns white." The crowd giggled and the boy smiled. I guess Terrell figured that he had years as a black man ahead of him till his hair turned white. The man sort of took over as conversationalist while I gathered the phone number of his mother from a brother and a cell phone to call her.(I didn't succeed except to leave a message that her son had been in an accident and gave her the name of the hospital.) Then I put my arm around the older brother who kept saying, "It's all my fault. I dared him! It's all my fault." I assured him we all understood it was an accident and that Terrell was going to be okay. He let out a few sobs and I kept my arm around him until he was calm.
"Terrell, I called your mom. The paramedics are going to take you the hospital and the doctors are going to check you out, okay?"
Then he said words I'll never forget: "Will you go with me?"
I paused. For a moment I wondered, "CAN I go with him?" Then I remembered the graduation, which seemed so trivial at the moment.
"Well, I might be able to visit you, but they won't let me go in the ambulance. They'll take good care of you. And," I added, "God will go with you."
"Okay," he said, weakly. My heart was ripped open. I wanted to climb into the back of the ambulance with him and hold his dirty, bloodstained hand all the way to the hospital until his mother could get there.
But I had peace as the pros took over. God's presence was with both of us--all of us--on Howard Street.
We were on Howard Street, a one-way street with three or four lanes. We were in the next-to-the-right-hand lane. Traffic was thick but steady. The sun was blinding overhead and the Baltimore air was typically hot and humid.
As we crept along, there was a tan SUV to our right, and we were both about 50 yards from the intersection. Jsut then I saw a group of black kids horsing around on the curb. In a split second I saw one boy step into the street and then I heard a squeal and a thud.
"Daddy, stop the car! I think that boy just got hit! Pull over!" My dad complied without question. I jumped out of the car and ran around the stopped SUV to witness a young black boy lying on his back in the street, next to the curb. He was conscious and talking. The driver and her passenger were clearly shaken, saying something about not seeing him, it happened so fast.
Immediately I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.
"Hi, honey," I said to the stricken boy (hoping my voice wasn't shaking). I felt calm but yet there was a sense of urgency about his possible injuries. He was moaning and holding his abdomen. Bits of gravel stuck to his palms.
"Am I gonna die?" he asked me.
"No, honey. You're going to be okay. What's your name?"
"Terrell," he said. "What's yours?"
"My name is Miss Zo and I'm here to help you."
"Are you an angel?"
"No, I'm not an angel, but God has sent me to you to tell you He loves you."
" Am I gonna die?"
I repeated, "No, you're okay, just hurt. May I pray for you?"
"I can't see!" he said. "I can't see you!" My immediate thought was that he had a concussion from hitting the pavement so hard, and that it was affecting his vision. Then I observed again that the sun was directly overhead so I blocked it with my body.
"Now I can see!" he said, relieved. "You wanna pray for me?"
"Yes I do. Will you hold my hand?" I wiped the gravel away gently and prayed out loud. By this time a small crowd had gathered and I could hear sirens approaching. I prayed a simple prayer asking God that Terrell would feel better soon, that He would give peace to him and his brothers, peace to the driver, and wisdom to the paramedics.
One of the bystanders was a white man in his 50s, I'd say, and he was hovering over the boy. The man's hair was silvery white.
Again Terrell asked, "Am I gonna die?"
Holding a lock of white hair away from his head, the man said, "No, you won't die till your hair turns white." The crowd giggled and the boy smiled. I guess Terrell figured that he had years as a black man ahead of him till his hair turned white. The man sort of took over as conversationalist while I gathered the phone number of his mother from a brother and a cell phone to call her.(I didn't succeed except to leave a message that her son had been in an accident and gave her the name of the hospital.) Then I put my arm around the older brother who kept saying, "It's all my fault. I dared him! It's all my fault." I assured him we all understood it was an accident and that Terrell was going to be okay. He let out a few sobs and I kept my arm around him until he was calm.
"Terrell, I called your mom. The paramedics are going to take you the hospital and the doctors are going to check you out, okay?"
Then he said words I'll never forget: "Will you go with me?"
I paused. For a moment I wondered, "CAN I go with him?" Then I remembered the graduation, which seemed so trivial at the moment.
"Well, I might be able to visit you, but they won't let me go in the ambulance. They'll take good care of you. And," I added, "God will go with you."
"Okay," he said, weakly. My heart was ripped open. I wanted to climb into the back of the ambulance with him and hold his dirty, bloodstained hand all the way to the hospital until his mother could get there.
But I had peace as the pros took over. God's presence was with both of us--all of us--on Howard Street.
posted by Zoanna at
8:45 AM
4 Comments:
WOW! What an example of keeping in step w/ the Spirit. How provoking. Thanks for sharing this story, Zo.
That is a wonderful story. It doesn't surprise me at all that you did that, what did your kids say?
As for what they observed of the injured boy, my kids saw a living example of something their mom's always warned them about, namely what can happen when you step into a busy street or give into any kind of foolishness, really. It was such a solemn moment, not a whole lot was said for a while afterwards. I think one of them commented to the effect, "You prayed out LOUD in front of ALL those PEOPLE?" I called the hospital later for an update, but since I wasn't family, patient confidentiality prevented them from giving any info other than, "Yeh, it looks like he's gonna be okay." (I had to press for that much.)
Lovely post, full of grace.
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