Rain Fall

I fell out of my car on Tuesday, April 14, 2009. It was after my genealogy class (yes, I take a genealogy class, I have now entered womanhood). I got all my dad’s names, he’s got like 37,449, some crazy amount but he didn’t send any to the temple because he just didn’t know how and it’s very, very difficult to learn from the old people at the genealogy library, so no one wants to. Anyway, I was leaving the class and getting into my car, but it was raining very hard. I positioned the slideboard and slid across, but the wetness of the board stuck to my jeans and I pulled it across before I was over, so the chair slid away and I was barely in the car with the sideboard. The slideboard fell to the ground and I went with it (after a lot of struggling to pull myself inside the car). I fell into a puddle of water. My slideboard was on the ground next to me and the wheelchair was also. I was soaked on the underside because of the puddle, but I was soaked on top because it was raining so hard. I was just soaked.

Worst of all, I was so embarrassed. I was sitting in a water puddle in the rain and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t climb back into the car (even though I tried) and I couldn’t call Whit because I had already thrown the phone to the passenger seat with my purse. So there I sat, looking pathetic and feeling even worse. The only thing I really could do was wait for someone to come by so they could hand me the phone so I could call Whit to come help me. Everyone at that place is super old and for sure they wouldn’t be able to do anything themselves.

A big white van pulled out of its parking stall and passed me slowly, but didn’t stop. Some old people walked by, but I don’t think they saw me through the pouring rain. I sat for a while (it felt like forever) and decided I’d have to get my phone myself. I couldn’t get it through the car, so I had to scoot around the whole car and open the passenger door to get it. Scooting is just jerking my whole body in the direction I need to go. I can go forwards or backwards only, backwards is easier –and better in this case because I was facing the same direction as the car and it would be easy to go backwards around the back of the car. I had to go slowly though and be very careful so I didn't slide my body across the gravely pavement and get a sore on my legs or bum. Sore-caused infections are the number one cause of death for spinal cord injuries and they are a big no-no – they take months to heal and you’re bedridden the entire time. So I began my treacherous, death-defying, scoot, but I only go like six inches before 'Grandma Insane' spots me.

She’s a very old lady and she walked by once on the sidewalk, then turned around and walked by again, then one more time really slow (she was already really slow to begin with, so I mean REALLY slow). I don’t know her age, but she had shoulder length (with bangs) dyed Fowler-brown hair that was thin. She had lots of wrinkles and was very thin herself, not just skinny, but frail thin. She came up to my side of the car and said with a sweet, shaky voice, “You know, you probably don’t need my help, but I just wanted to know if there was something I could do.”

I told her I couldn’t get in myself and asked her if she could please hand me my cell phone so I cold call my husband. I had to convince her that he worked close enough to come help me, but even then she wouldn’t get me my phone and insisted that she could pick me up. I was like, “No thanks, I really don’t think –“

“Oh yes,” as she moved the wheelchair – barely because it’s heavy and she tried to pick it up by the handles and shift it, “I think together we can do it.”

“No please,” I begged, “you don’t understand, just get me my phone and I’ll call my husband, he’s just one minute away and he’ll be here fast!”

Meanwhile, rain is pouring down and she is coming closer.

“I think this will work,” as she picks up my left arm with both her hands, expecting me to miraculously stand up.

“No, no, please, just hand me my phone, or go inside and grab somebody – anybody –to come out and help us!” I was thinking that somebody else would get me my phone.

“Oh come on, honey,” as she bends down and grabs me like she’s picking up a 3 pound toddler, you know, with both hands in the armpits. “One…” I look at her through the pouring rain in frustrated disbelief. “Two…” I close my eyes and hope she doesn’t fall on top of me in her futile attempt. “Three…”

And if I wasn’t there I would not have believed it. That frail, shaky, old woman, who is half Kat’s size, single-handedly picked me up and shoved me into the driver’s seat, then turned, and shuffled away.

I guess miracles come in many shapes and sizes...and ages.