Whenever I question my faith in people, I remind myself of Jesus Lady:

August 16, 2012

sexandotherunicorns:

Last summer I was in a pretty bad car accident: going 80mph, a car side-swiped me and I wound up losing control, popping a tire, and flipping 5 times into the median, landing just short of oncoming traffic.

In shock, the only clear thought running through my action-flick-ridden mind was, “Get out of the car, Vickie. Get out. It might explode. Get out.” So I kicked the wrecked door open, hopped out, and walked in a couple of PTSD-induced circles. When I looked up, I saw the culprit pull away and drive off.

And then something else caught my eye: a squat, 40-year-oldish-looking woman running right at me with her arms wide open.

Next thing I knew, I was completely engulfed in strange arms, pooch, and “Praise Jesus!”es.

I was still way too out of sorts to fight it, so I just stood there and let her pat me down all over, checking for blood or disfigured limbs and praising Jesus.

“Your car flipped 5 times! I thought for SURE you were dead! And then you jumped out and I turned to my husband and I said, ‘PRAISE JESUS!’ Do you believe in Jesus?”

“Um.”

“Well, I’m sure you do NOW!” she laughed.

Soon enough, 7 other complete strangers pulled over and crowded around. They kept asking if I was okay, or if I needed anything.

“I—I can’t see,” was all I could say, “I need my glasses. I can’t see. I can’t see.”

Immediately a search party formed, and everyone [besides Jesus Lady, who was still holding on to me for dear life] dug through the wreckage and found my glasses.

When I put them on and finally settled down a bit, one of the strangers, who happened to be an ex-military trained EMT who happened to have some equipment with him, gave me a look-over.

He triple-checked everything, not ready to believe I wasn’t hurt at all.

“Well, you seem to be alright, so — wait! Is that blood?!”

“Oops!” Jesus Lady squealed, “That’s just me. …I bit my lip a little too hard.”

At this point, most of the shock wore off, and the accident finally sunk in. And I collapsed onto the ground and started to sob. Jesus Lady sat down with me, and cradled me, and wiped my tears and snot all over her blouse.

So now I know: for every asshole who damn near kills you and drives off, there’re at least 8 others who’ll stop and make sure you’re okay. And, in the very least, one Jesus Lady who’ll wipe your tears and snot all over her own shirt.

Everyone, meet my incredible friend, Vickie. She usually tries to make you laugh. But sometimes she makes you cry.