So close we came. So close we flew. The lost boy near Death.
I opened my now fully-closed eyes and sat up, ready to scold him for ruining the first moment of peace of my day. But what I saw stopped me mid-sentence; death. His face was purple-blue and his lips a shade of violet. Foam spewed from his mouth and the annoying squeak was the product of his foot pressing against the clutch with the convulsions of his body.
Death fell on the boy’s face, he was lost
I panicked. I was only sixteen, my sheltered church-school upbringing had afforded me no experience in this world and I didn’t know how to drive a car. Within a millisecond countless thoughts hurtled through my subconscious; “Run a few blocks and get help, no I can’t leave him, what if he dies? No I must drive to the hospital. What if I get pulled over or have an accident, then to death he will go because I can’t get him help.”
It didn’t matter, his life was worth the risk. If I saw blue lights or had an accident I would just have to…I don’t know, cross those bridges when I got to them. At least 20 kilograms heavier than me, I did not notice his weight; my adrenaline kicked in and I pulled him, limb by limb, inch by inch, into the passenger seat.
I started the car and stalled numerous times, eventually pulling off and proceeding to swerve wildly all over the abandoned parking lot before heading onto the street. I braked suddenly and glanced at him once again to see if there was any change. He was awake! Disorientated and still decidedly purple, but awake.
The scarred and trapped beauty of a boy near death
We were traveling at only about 20 kilometers per hour and in my moment of thankfulness at his not being dead, I lost concentration and bumped into the back of a parked car.
“Whats going on out there?” came a gruff male voice from a portly man approaching. “Are you drunk?” he demanded.
“No sir, my boyfriend is diabetic, and he needs to get to hospital. I was checking on him and lost concentration.” I offered, it was the first thing that came to mind, my diabetic grandfather, needles…
The man was worried and half carried the semi-conscious boy into his house, muttering something about a police report. Thinking this would involve officers at the scene, I grabbed the drugs from the car, followed them to the house and immediately asked if I could use the bathroom. There I disposed of the heroin.
I can’t remember how much time passed at the house, but when the boy regained his strength we left, the man not perturbed by my inability to produce a licence as there was virtually no damage to his car. I remember walking to the car, sitting down in the passenger seat, my head spinning at what we had just narrowly escaped.
Thank You for the life of this boy. I will honor his death in my life.
To this Boy
I know that you found our Savior before you finally met your death over 6 years ago. I trust that he kept you and you walk free with Him now.
Thank You Father that I had the opportunity to know this precious soul.
Walk free, dear boy, you are no longer lost
