An Unexpected Win

This weekend I attended the West Coast Christian Writers Conference for the second time. Just like last year, the entire experience was one of positivity, inspiration and learning from other believers. Every writer from the most experienced (and so impressive) to those just starting out, to everyone in between, was there to encourage and celebrate others on this often solitary journey. My writer’s heart was full.

At the final gathering, the winners of the writing contest were announced. I was so surprised and pleased to win first place for non fiction and Best in Conference. The piece was written some time ago about an encounter where I felt God’s presence so clearly.

It’s titled, “I Stopped” and I’d like to share it here. Scroll Down.

I Stopped

You were curled up small and you looked so young and fragile, just sitting on the side of the road with your feet way too close to traffic. Without thinking, I abruptly pulled over. I was bedraggled after a long day with teenagers; I felt it and looked it. I walked the 200 hundred yards and called to you. I asked if you were okay. Anyone could tell, you were not.  “I’m a teacher,” I said. “I’d like to help.”

  Your story tumbled out, along with fresh tears. There had been a fight, a ripped favorite jacket, harsh words and a hasty retreat with no real plan but to reach the cross on top of the hill. Then the sky darkened, and the rain started. The cross now seemed far farther than you thought. Now what to do, but just sit on the side of the road, head in hands and shivering, but too proud to go home. We spoke for a while. I said I wouldn’t offer you a ride because never should you ever get in a car with a stranger. I asked if I could call the police, and you said, “Yes, please.” I wanted you to understand that it gets better.  “Believe me,” I said, “it will get better.”

  As we stood and chatted, waiting for backup, three other cars pulled over and asked if they might help. I still wonder. What made them stop? There were two women. The last was a man. He offered you a well-worn denim jacket. You said you were fine. I said I was waiting with you. He insisted on leaving the jacket. You took it reluctantly at first but no sooner had he driven away, did you put it on. You positively swam in it. And again it struck me how very small you were, only eleven. When I noticed the tiny silver crosses in your ears, I asked you if you believed in God. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Me too,” I agreed. “You must be feeling his presence today. Look at all these strangers looking out for you. Don’t you think God is working through them, that he has your back?” There was no need for a reply, and you didn’t.

  When the officer pulled up, I dared to hug you. I felt your relief and said goodbye and watched you drive away in the back of the patrol car. I’ve thought about you and where you might be today. When I see the cross on the hill, I remember you and send up a quick prayer.

Thanks for reading.

Warmly,

Deanna