How I Met Sam Part 17

My apologies to Dad for this post, but it is too funny to overlook.

So, they caught the one guy with Esther's help, and then they head off to chase the other three who were by this time scampering up the mountain behind our house. Esther and I walk up the hill to the front of our house where we wonder what we'll find. We aren't allowed to enter the house yet. I'm in my t-shirt and shorts that I'd happened to sleep in that night. Unfortunately, Dad's pj's aren't so modest.

Now, keep in mind there are like 20 camera media people standing out front of our house. Apparently a few police had taken the time to untie my Dad, who wasn't dead after all. Dad went straight to my room, hoping I was okay, only to find I was gone! With great anxiety he stepped out onto the balcony (still in his undershirt and tighty-whiteys) and starts yelling to the crowd below: "Where's Sarah!? She isn't here!" The media thought this was a sight to behold - foreign man in his underwear shouting from the balcony at 3 a.m. and started flashing away.

I had just been through one of the most horrifying experiences of my life and now my Dad is standing in his underwear with the media flashing shouting MY name.

Now for a part I didn't write - a commentary by my friend Lauran Harrison:

"This father's heart must have been dealing with incredible panic and fear for the previous hour or more.

Mr Crutchfield heard Sam screaming, his own wife was bound and gagged, and this kind, strong, wise man was absolutely powerless to help. He also knew that his attractive young daughter-- the miracle baby they had longed for for years before God finally gave them a child-- was in her bedroom, in all likelihood being stabbed herself.
When Mr. Crutchfield was freed and knew his wife was alive, he ran to his precious daughter's bedroom to find out if Sarah was all right, but she was gone, as were three of the attackers. Mr. Crutchfield had every reason to think Sarah had been hurt and abducted. Not one of us would have stopped to look for a bathrobe. (And the night of Sarah’s birth he had almost run off to the hospital in the same garb as in this incident!) Like every other one of us, he was searching and calling and trying to find his baby, no matter how grown up she was.
I can't help but cry at the shameful, disrespectful behavior of the Hong Kong press toward Sarah's wonderful father. He is an old man worthy of respect. May none of us ever have to walk in the shoes Mr. and Mrs. Crutchfield wore that night, eleven years ago."


Link to Part 18

Comments

  1. Anonymous28 January 2011 at 12:30

    Thank you SO much, Lauran, for adding those incredible insights and perspectives!!!!!

    SO, true and SO insightful, to be able to think of and "experience" it from his possible, and likely perspective! Yes, what an incredible act of selflessness, his considering and being concerned about his daughter's need, safety and well-being, well before and above his own! SUCH amazing, courageous, selfless love!!!! How I respect a man like that!!!

    How I respect you, Lauran, for your courage to speak these truths, in love, as you did! Speaking up in his defense and honoring his father's heart!!!!! How I respect and appreciate Sarah, also for posting your additional comment!

    Thanks Sarah, for taking the time to write out your story for all of us to get to read!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Year Ago Today I nearly lost my son

Image
 You can see that writing for me has ground to a screeching halt (probably literally, in the literal, not figurative, sense). It happened a year ago on this day, one day after Timo's 17th birthday. One year ago on this night, it was a night like any other. Routine. Normal. Kids doing kid things. Caleb and Priscilla back in their first couple weeks of college, away from us. Timo working his full-time tree-trimming job. He had just had a nasty incident with a wasps nest that had caused his entire arm to swell and had to spend a day in bed with fever and chills. He had so many stings we couldn't count them. He was on the mend from that. He had been back at work just a day or two, and the night before we had taken him to an all-you-can-eat dinner which he enjoyed with us - laughing and choosing his favorite foods - mostly meat. We were doing okay. I always carry my own melancholy, and hold a world within me, a reflective, prayerful, yearning. So a year ago, I suppose life was as st
Read more

The Cry of a Mother's Heart

Image
  For Previous post, click here At this time last year I had sat up all night, driven the hour to Chicago, wondering if my child - man-child, but still child - would be alive to greet me on the other side. The moments in the E.R. were stunning, shocking, bewildering. I barely spoke a word. When it was almost time to move him to the helipad, I stood by Timo and stroked his head. In the previous few years he had not been very conversant with me. (Parents who have never had teenage boys: this is normal, not a sign of distress, but a development where they want to make their own way in life. This is not to say they don't need us, and our input - they do, but the dynamics change). I often overstepped bounds with him, and frustrated him. I tried to give him space, but there were times my fears took over. Our relationship was not strained - he knew I loved him, he knew my care for him. But Mothers are often not easy for teenage boys. There's hardly a way around that. We birthed them.
Read more

I Continue the Telling of this past year (part 2}...

Image
For previous post, click here   The second night in hospital was worse than the first. The first night I was so shocked, stunned, almost disbelieving. It was a strange reality. The second night the anxiety storm kicked in and I was caught in the vortex. Not only was I up all night to keep him breathing, but fear overtook me. I worried about money - how we would cover all the medical bills we were racking up. I worried about Timo's recovery - his pain, his health, his rest, his soul. I worried about me. I run a depression-soul-fever in general; how could I possibly take on the round the clock care of a 17 year old who doesn't want help with anything?  As we encountered nurse after nurse and checked in with each doctor, they queried Timo about his life. Through a number of ups and downs, Timo had decided he would move on from high school and embark on working full-time and pursuing trade school, and possibly some community college classes in plumbing and welding. He had just foun
Read more