GOD has a way of allowing us to be in the right
place at the right time.

I was walking down a dimly lit street late one 
evening when I heard muffled screams coming from 
behind a clump of bushes. Alarmed, I slowed down to 
listen, and panicked when I realized that what I was
hearing were the unmistakable sounds of a struggle: 
heavy grunting, frantic scuffling, and tearing of fabric.

Only yards from where I stood, a woman was being attacked.
Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety, 
and cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a
new route home that night. What if I became another 
statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone 
and call the police?

Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in
my head had taken only seconds, but already the girl's
cries were growing weaker. I knew I had to act fast. How 
could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I 
could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, 
even if it meant risking my own life.

I am not a brave mannor am I athletic. I don't know 
where I found the moral courage and physical strength — 
but once I had finally resolved to help the girl, I became
strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and pulled 
the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the 
ground, where we wrestled for a few minutes until the 
attacker jumped up and escaped.

Panting hard, I scrambled upright and approached 
the girl, who was crouched behind a tree, sobbing. In 
the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I 
could certainly sense her trembling shock. Not wanting 
to frighten her further, I at first spoke to her from a 
distance. “It's okay,” I said soothingly. “The man ran away.
You're safe now.” There was a long pause and then I heard 
the words, uttered in wonder, in amazement. “Daddy, is that you?”
And then, from behind the tree, out stepped my youngest 
daughter, Katherine.

Author Unknown