Extraordinary Grace

Phelps lane peewee softball mid-week, 7pm and I’m wishing I was home; all the 3^rd grade girls are out on the field.  The outfielders, my daughter included, are leisurely plucking dandelions and occasionally looking up to field a ball.  I’m trying to pay attention to the less than riveting game while keeping my son and his sister occupied.  Gradually I notice the outfielders’ come to attention.  Almost in unison, something they’ve never done at practice, they move their bodies and turning their backs on the batter, look east, just like the moment in Swan Lake when all the swans turn to the sun.  My eyes, then head, follow their gazes.  They are entranced because, over by the annex building, a car is on fire.  There is a thick haze of black smoke and then flames slowly start to shoot from the car.  We are all frozen in place watching the destruction. I gaze over at the smoldering car, fascinated, and think, what an unlucky break.    I look further and think almost abstractly, “hmmm I’m parked over there,” and then, with alarm, “SHIT I’M PARKED OVER THERE!” I leave my softball player where she is, as she’s supervised by her coaches, and grab the hands of my son and daughter and book it closer to the fire.  I weave my way through the crowd, dragging them with me, to look at the car that’s on fire; it’s a sedan not a silver minivan.  It’s almost a relief that it’s not mine BUT, on closer inspection, realize that I’m unluckily parked next to the car now engulfed in flames.  I don’t know what to do and start to panic.  I quickly weigh my options.  I can try to jump into the minivan and drive it away but I would have to either leave my little ones behind in the crowd or take them into the van with me.  It’s Sophie’s choice.  The flames are getting higher and hotter and the crowd is backing away and waiting for the fire department.  I imagine that I hear fire trucks off in a distance but my van is slowly being licked by the flames.  Oh My God!!  I need to move my van.  I say it out loud without thinking, trying to make a decision.  A stranger walks over to me and says, “I’ll move your car, give me the keys.” I obey without thinking.  I hand the keys over and watch as he hops into the driver’s seat and quickly and expertly backs the van away from the flames.  It takes seconds.  He walks over to me and hands me my keys with the fob attached to three adorable pictures of my elementary aged kids.  I barely look up before he disappears.  I don’t think I even thanked him before he melts into the crowd.  I didn’t see his face or ask his name but I do know for sure that he’s an angel.  He swooped down in my time of distress and saved me.  Tennessee Williams famously wrote, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers” and it resonates with me as sometimes, in the unlikeliest times, strangers seem to dive in and help without me asking, thanking or perhaps even deserving.  I am gratefully surrounded by extraordinary grace.