The Girl With 9 Lives...

Writing this blog has proven to be therapeutic for me.  I have encountered some extremely strange things over the years.  I have lived through more in my 37 years, than some people will in a lifetime.  Every now and again, I have to wonder why my life has been spared so many times.  I kind of feel like a cat with 9 lives!  I do know, however, that one day my luck will run out.  I also know that I am ready for that day, whether it comes tomorrow or in 60 years.

Besides writing for self-therapy (ha!), I also want to provide my sons with something to read from me one day.  Living with a serious health issue causes me to confront the possibility of dying young, more so than I would like.  However, I also know that any one of us could get hit by a train tomorrow.  Life has a way of ending suddenly like that.  I know because mine has almost ended suddenly like that on more than one occasion.

What I am about to disclose is a bizarre situation.  It is indeed purely fact, and not fiction.  Those closest to me have heard the story.  I still can't quite believe it happened, but it is encounters such as follows, that force me outside of my "comfort zone" and into the world of blogging/writing to journal my experiences.

It was the fall of 1991.  I was a freshman at the University of Texas at San Antonio.  My parents and I decided for me to attend college somewhere close to them, as I tended to have a few health issues.  We know now, that my Crohn's Disease has probably played a role in my life for many years.

In any case, my parents had just moved to Laredo, TX for a short time after I graduated high school.  My dad played a huge part in the development and expansion of IBC (International Bank of Commerce).  He and my mother were to live in Laredo for a few months, and then relocate to San Antonio where my father would run the bank's service center.

It may have been my first trip "home" since leaving for college.  You know how that goes.  You are having such a grand time with your new life and new friends, that mom and dad are seldom missed.

In any case, I was ready to see my parents for the weekend, and heading out of San Antonio a little later than planned.  This was back before the days when everyone had a cell phone.  I was driving my first car  (Nissan Sentra) and enjoying the easy, 2.5 hour drive down to Laredo.

Suddenly, my car sputtered to a stop.  The air smelled funny and there was smoke coming out of the front hood.  The moment was surreal.  It was starting to get dark outside, and I was in disbelief that this could have just happened.  I waited in the car for a few minutes contemplating my next step.  I recalled wondering if I should make a sign to post in the window, saying I needed help, or WHAT?!  This sounds like a silly idea, but I tell you, when I looked out the window, it looked like a ghost town.  I could not see any signs of civilization within my eye sight.  I had a deep, sinking feeling in my gut.  I knew this night might not end well.  Stepping outside of my car and looking around again, I realized this looked just like a person's worst nightmare.

I waited for a good half hour, hoping that a police officer might drive by.  I saw one older man, driving a truck full of watermelons pass by me.  In hindsight, I wish I would have asked HIM for a ride.  Instead, I waited for a bit longer, but as it grew darker, I became concerned.

Finally, a dirty white pick-up truck approached me heading north.  There were two men in the truck.  I glanced at the back of their pick-up and asked if they could give me a ride to the nearest pay phone.  They laughed and said sure, it was about 2 miles up the road.  I guess in my head, I thought I would ride in the back of the truck if it was just a ways down the road.  Instead, I found myself getting in the front of the truck with the two strangers.

Not only was I now IN the truck with two complete strangers, but there was a cooler sitting between the driver and the other male passenger.  I was forced to sit up against the cooler, and realized all too quickly that this strange man would be sitting WAY too close for my comfort.  The men began to converse in Spanish.  I had taken a few years of Spanish in high school, but did not have the ability to translate what they were saying.  They were speaking quite fast.  I did notice that we had just passed by a gas station.  I asked about stopping, reminding them that I needed to use the pay phone to call my parents.  My heart sank deeper and deeper.

I will never forget the disgusting face of the man who sat next to me.  He was in my space and breathing in my face.  His first sentence to me in English was, "You are such a pretty girl, why would you get in the car with people you don't know?".  I tried my best not to panic, but fear was setting in.  Even as I write this, my heart is beginning to beat faster.  I can almost smell the dirty truck and the filthy men inside of it.

My head was spinning.  The next words I heard were:  "You will be staying with us tonight.  Would you like that?".  I was in shock.  I couldn't move or speak.  I just shook my head, no.  Suddenly, the man placed his hand upon my leg.  He told me again how pretty I was and asked if he could touch my leg.  I shook my head, yet he placed his hand on my thigh.  The next question he asked, was if he could kiss me. He began to talk about how I would stay the night with them at their hotel and they would take good care of me.

Right then and there, my life literally flashed before my eyes. Just like you read about in stories or watch in movies.  There it was:  my life flashing before my eyes on fast forward.  At that moment, I remember thinking that I would be raped for sure, but how would they kill me?  I memorized every detail of that dirty truck.  I listened to the men talking in Spanish over my head.  I imagined that they were plotting what to do with me.  The driver was a younger man, maybe in his mid-20's.  He looked at me a few times.  Did I catch a glimmer of compassion in his eyes?  I thought that I did.  Perhaps a trace.  I gave him a pleading look.  Spare me.  Please!  The stranger to my right slid his hand up my thigh and grabbed my hand.

My head was spinning so fast, I felt like I couldn't breathe.  I began to hyperventilate, and fought back vomiting. I began to do the only thing I could think of doing.  I began to pray.  I cried out, not knowing what I was saying.  I remember calling out for God to help me, save me, spare me...

Then the anger set in, the fighting instinct that I will have until the day I die, came to life.  I began to breathe deep and once again memorized every detail of the truck.  We were passing by yet another small city.  I knew this meant war.  They were not going to stop and let me out.

I will never forget what happened next.  I made eye contact with the driver once more.  YES!  I DID see a glimpse of compassion in his eyes.  Something passed between us that moment.  I will always be grateful for the sympathy he had, and the grace that he delivered at that moment.  He suddenly slowed down in the middle of the highway.  I knew this was my chance.  I took it.  With all my might, I elbowed the man next to me in the stomach.  I lunged toward the door, opened it and toppled out.  My head still spinning, and my legs shaking, I pulled myself up and ran like there was no tomorrow.

I ran down some sort of grassy incline.  I would later find scratches from thorns and gravel on my legs.  I came across a small convenience store.  I burst into the store and felt like angels had been placed in my path.  An older couple (I found out later they owned the store), approached me.  The man asked, "Honey, are you alright?  No, you are NOT.".  His wife embraced me as he called the police.  I cried with relief and from sheer exhaustion.  We placed a call to my parents to come and get me.

I was only 17, and had to endure a rigorous interviewing from the police about whether or not I was touched or raped.  Thank God, I was not.  They took a description of the men and the truck and left to pursue them.

The incident was terrifying, yet also embarrassing.  I told few people.  I realize now that I dealt with post-traumatic stress syndrome after the ordeal.  I would wake up in the night seeing the man's face up close to mine, feel his hand on my knee.  My heart would be racing and I would be drenched in sweat.  Almost every time I closed my eyes, for nights on end, I would see their faces.  I would hear them telling me that I would be staying with them....Even writing this 20 years later, I still feel the fear, and remember it like it was yesterday.  But I need to revisit times like these every now and again.  It is a good reminder of the second chance that I was given.  What a gift.  A precious gift.

If your life has been spared, have you ever stopped to think about what you will do with your second chance?  Are you living a life worthy of the second chance you were given?  If I am honest with myself, the answer is "no", not always.  May I be more mindful of the words that I say, the way that I love, and how much I laugh and enjoy the small things in life.

You may not even know about a close call you had, or a time you should have been dealt your last hand.  Perhaps you were spared and don't even realize it. We should live each day as it might be our last.  Creating a legacy for those we leave behind.

As 2011 begins, may I remember one of my "9 lives" experiences, and grow from it. Never taking my second chance lightly, but instead embracing it, and listening to what it is I am called to do in this life.