As many of you know, I’m somewhat of a cynic. Okay, I won’t lie. I am a cynic. A pessimist. Call it whatever you will. However, faith in God really changes that, at least in certain situations, such as one I experienced today.
For the past couple days I’ve been helping my neighbor - both my brother and I. We tore down his shed and moved all the wood and shingles into this large dumpster he rented for the week. He has this “car port” which is basically a mini garage. It’s made of solid wood beams and has a large roof on top. Anyway, after we finished with the shed we moved towards the car port. We were tearing them both down, ripping them apart, then disposing them.
He spent a while working on it. Sawing off a beam here or there with his chainsaw, pounding out a bolt with a sledgehammer. But he couldn’t get it to move. He tried for like forty five minutes. So he went under/inside it, with the sledgehammer, and began to pound on one of the four remaining support beams, the one in the center.
He hit it once. No response. It remained solid. He hit it again. Nothing. He hit it a third; more of the same. Then he hit it again, and within a second, the garage collapsed and fell upon his body. There was no time for my brother or I to respond or give a warning - not that it would have helped. He knew as soon as we new. It was upon him within a second. My brother and I bolted to where the man lay. I couldn’t see him at first and I thought he must have gotten away soon enough. I was wrong.
The car port had collapsed on him (as he had earlier joked it would). I could hear him grunting from inside. My brother was gasping, panicking so to speak. He hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do.
Now, the car port rested on concrete, and there was grass to the left. He fell into the grass, right next to the concrete - right where the space from the concrete to the grass dropped down about a foot, maybe a little more.
He was in the exact place, the only place he could have been without being seriously injured. There was just enough room for a body to lie. Had he fell to the other side, there would have been no room. Had he fell on the concrete, he would have been crushed.
I told my brother to go get help, and my mother and grandfather soon appeared. I stayed with the man, talking to him, and doing my best to do everything I could. I attempted to lift the roof, but it moved a mere two to three inches. No way I was moving that. It weighed a ton. Two tons (seriously, this is like a real roof). Eventually he wiggled halfway out, and once my grandfather arrived the three of us used a metal pole to pry up the roof a few more inches so he could slide out.
His head was bleeding, but not severely. He back hurt, perhaps bruised, but not broken. His chest was tight, making it hard to breath, but his lungs were not punctured. He was okay.
Let me re-stress the fact that he fell in the only place, the only direction it would be possible for him to have been and not broken any bones - the only place he’d have a half-way decent chance to live. The only place. Anywhere else, and he’d be dead.
Secondly, the fact that my brother and I were there in the first place is more than coincidental. Had we not been there, I doubt he would have been able to get out on his own. Had we not been there, to think realistically, he would have been standing in a slightly different place, done everything a slightly different way, making it very likely the car shed would have fallen in a different manner - making his chances of survival all the more slim.
What’s more is the fact that had we not been there, no one would have known for four days. His wife was out of town until Monday. He could have been stuck under a roof, trapped, hungry, and bleeding, for four days.
Now, albeit there could have been other scenarios - I admit that. The cynic in me cries out that, had my brother and I not been there (or had we gone there earlier as planned), then the roof probably wouldn’t have fallen on him at all. In a sense, through fate, my brother and I caused his injury.
The Christian in me says this is an act of God. Not a miracle, but just short of one. It has to be. The chances of the coincident of both him falling in the only spot to survive and the fact that we were there and his wife is gone are enough to make me think God had to play a roll. Of course he does.
I’m a cynic, by nature. I look at the dark, wretched truth. But from time to time, a bit of light and a bit of faith can bring out the optimist in me.
Posted in General by Lpspider on December 15th, 2006 
