Excerpt from A Believer-in-Waiting's First Encounters with God: Puerto Rico

This excerpt comes from the section of A Believer-in-Waiting's First Encounters with God that talks about God's protection even while being an atheist.

Puerto Rico

Not only do I feel protected, but also I have no explanation for why I am here today other than having been protected in the past. Whether it is dreamily walking in front of cars—growing up on a Maine farm without much in the way of roads probably contributes to that habit—or being placed in harm’s way due to my occupation, I seem to escape injury regularly.      

In 1980, my reserve unit had been called to active duty in Puerto Rico to replace sailors who had been attacked, wounded, and killed on the way home from the night shift at a military post. My unit, considered one of the most ready in the reserves at that time, was activated to fill in the decimated ranks until those wounded returned to duty and those killed replaced. I left my graduate studies and university teaching position and took off for exotically dangerous work on an island. There I found myself the officer in charge of mid watch (the night shift). 

The four armed US Marine Corps guards in the bed of a pickup truck in front of our bus on our way to work and another four in a pickup that followed it reminded us of the seriousness of our situation, as did the single Marine, with rifle locked and loaded, crouching beside the bus driver. I sat in the front seat, behind the Marine and next to a young, wide-eyed military policeman whose greatest task in civilian life had been mall patrol.

For days, we had no incidents and were becoming blasé about our exotic assignment until the return to our lodging from our final shift before leaving the island. As the early morning sun began to reveal the surrounding fields, we were wending down the dirt road leading from the military post to a major highway when a herd of cows unexpectedly separated us from our front Marine guard. As the last cow crossed the road, a white panel truck deftly inserted itself in front of us. The Marine on the bus looked at the driver, Rudy, a reckless, tough guy from our home unit, and said, “This is what happened the last time. The next thing that will happen is that people inside the truck will open the back doors and begin firing. When that happens, duck, and let me return fire.”

“They are going to open those doors and shoot us?” Rudy asked incredulously. “The hell they are!” He stepped on the gas and rammed the bus into the back of the panel truck. Matching his speed with that of the panel truck driver, he literally pushed the panel truck all the way to the highway, where the truck then passed us by. A couple of would-be killers inside pointed rifles out a side window at us, but they did not dare start a public fracas. Off they went, and home we went, having been protected by Rudy, who, I suspect, had been given divine inspiration and courage.

Read more by and about Elizabeth Mahlou and this book HERE.