A Hero for a Hero

Prompt: Write a story about some unsung hero.

A Hero for a Hero

“This is 911. What is your emergency?” And the litany of questions begins to pour though the earphone. “Tell me exactly what is happening now?  What is the address of the emergency? Are you safe? Is this the number you are calling from? The voice over the phone extends a calming, soothing tone. After a deep breath, the caller responds with the important information. The operator says “Help is soon on the way.”

Most of us are old enough to understand the horror and calamity on September 11^th and the incredible heroics of the first responders: police, firemen, EMT’s, doctors, nurses.  911 operators were critical to the logistical movement of help to the various areas in need.  Some were heralded as heroes behind the actual scenes. As the years moved away from 2001, the din of the trauma faded and standard 911 operators returned to a less frenzied state. If you ask an operator why they do this, he or she, would say it is just part of their job. Asked for the reasons behind it, many would say “I just want to help people.” Others say, “I thrive on readiness, high energy, and quick thinking.” A few might be inclined to say “it is the first line of training for other professional service agencies.”  Regardless of the intent, the end result is all the same…getting aid quickly to someone in need.

Much like 911 operators, there are individuals who apply their time to work with individuals in the midst of crisis. They are known as social workers. A good majority of these people offer up their skills. Many of them support mental health, alcoholic abuse, gambling abuse, drug abuse, and domestic abuse victims. 

I have a story to tell about one social worker whose name is Louise. I knew Louise from my college days. She was the person you would see holding up signs for some worthy cause on the campus quadrangle. In my eyes Louise is a remarkable person. If you would look at her behavior one would remark saying that woman does not have a bad bone in her body. She would exert incredible efforts to find homes for the homeless. On a few occasions, Louise would harbor a homeless woman with her kids at her off-campus apartment. Louise made it a point to scour the quad for someone hiding in alcoves of the campus who had no food. She would share a portion of her already meager lunch. How would I know this? With my own two eyes I witnessed her mercy and empathy.

I actually met Louise in one of my philosophy classes when I fumbled on an oral answer to the professor’s question. Louise discreetly whispered the answer into my ear. She always wore modest and simple clothing. Her physical appearance would not draw much attention. I soon learned in class that Louise had an extraordinary mind beyond her answering the professor’s question. I would categorize her as brilliant. Her intellect, determination and simple beauty enticed me to get better acquainted. When I first introduced myself, she sensed my awkwardness, but completely put me at ease. With newly discovered courage I asked her out to dinner.  She looked at me chuckling “I eat anything.”

Dinner in my college days was eating anywhere outside the dorm cafeterias and where coupons were accepted.  We thoroughly enjoyed our dinner so much so we occupied a table for nearly four hours. We had three servers during our time. Sensing I was not prepared to tip all three, Louise graciously helped. I learned that evening Louise was pursuing a degree in social work.  I told her I was not surprised by all the rumors I had heard about her. Oops! I realized that was not the right thing to say.

I had to backtrack concerning my comment. I explained to her that they were not rumors but my observations seeing her on the quad. Oops, again I put my foot in my mouth! Louise in an even-tempered voice said “So you were stalking me?” I had that look of horror on my face when she said it. Then in a very loving voice she said, “I am deeply flattered. So, you must be aware of the causes I follow?” I said I was not entirely familiar with them all.  During those four hours Louise shared some incredible stories of her work. Yet, it was not a strictly one-sided conversation. She did ask me what was my major and my interests outside of school. I curtly answered that theology was my major and I enjoyed music of all kinds.  I kept it simple because I was enthralled with Louise’s background and the stories she was sharing. Shamefully I did not share that the extent of my volunteer work which involved only three hours one night a week at a crisis intervention phone center.

Louise shared stories about the blight of illiteracy among young children outside the university campus. She volunteered on a local library van that weekly would make rounds in the ghetto areas of the city. Her face lit up explaining those times when she read fairy tales to the little ones. Louise told me about her efforts with the local animal control to get feral animals adopted.  Louise eagerly told me how she volunteered at the city hospital working in the psych ward as an intern along with other social workers.  My jaw just dropped as I continued to hear story after story about her crusade to be there for anyone in need. I asked her “Louise, when do you find time to go to class, let alone study?” She guilefully smiled at me saying, “I go with the flow and triage my activities as I need. Life is a learning center. Everything I need to know is outside this campus.” She added, “I see by your quizzical look you may be wondering about my grades and when do I have time to study? I have a photogenic mind.” Of course, I should have known that as she was a genius!

Louise continued sharing other examples, but there was one that really had a profound effect on me. I wondered if it was because I was immersed in my studies as a theologian. She told me one day she saw a pamphlet from a group that was against abortion.  With tears in her eyes, she saw the graphic pictures of the dismemberment of an early-stage baby from a D&C (dilation and curettage) abortion. Louise then revealed to me a very personal fact. She was adopted at birth. To this day she has never learned the identity of her birth mother. I was overwhelmed when she said this. I stammered out “Your adoptive parents must really love you a lot. Here you are at college. An incredibly brilliant woman who gives so much back to the community.” Louise gently smiled.  I looked at her and in a moment of euphoria I blurted out to her, “You are a hero.” Louise blushed.  That evening, I walked her back to her apartment.

As the semester passed, it was difficult to see Louise because of her involvement with so many organizations. We would occasionally have coffee together and catch up on what was happening in our lives. She told me she had to get a part-time job to help defer the cost of her philanthropy. She would buy meal cards to pass out to street people. She also volunteered at a youth home to help counsel troubled teens. When Louise shared all of these things, I was dumbfounded. I said to her “Louise, you are one dynamo! You are a source of perpetual kindness and energy. And not to be trite, you really are a hero.”

She acknowledged my compliment with gratitude.  But I could sense fatigue from her voice.  In addition to all she was doing Louise was now getting involved with domestic abuse cases.  I quietly thought that Louise’s frenzied work pace and volunteerism might by collapsing around her.  She seemed sullen and depressed.

Final exams were soon to be a reality for me. Unlike Louise’s brilliant mind, I had to study like a dog (not sure how a dog studies), but time was getting away from me. I had to make my studying paramount to graduate on time. I still made it a point to do my one-day tour at the crisis center. Other people might consider this incident as mere coincidence, but I knew differently.  As I was halfway through my shift at the center I received a call from an anxious woman. I recognized that voice on the other end of the phone call. It was Louise. She was sobbing. Her breathing was labored. I could not let on that I knew it was her so I disguised my voice. I responded in a low, deep voice to avoid recognition. “You seem so distressed. Would you like to talk about your pain?  You can be assured your call is confidential. Tell me how can I help you?” After several minutes of deep weeping, Louise calmed down to talk. “I am beside myself,” she said. She continued on, “Today has to be the worst day of my life. I did some researching and I learned that my birth mother never wanted me. She wanted to have an abortion. She wanted me dead. She left me in a box because it was too late to have an abortion.” Louise continued to sob. I thought for moment she would actually choke on her tears. I was at a loss for words. Then she said, “maybe it would be better if I had not been born. Maybe I should go somewhere and die.” In a knee-jerk reaction I said, “Louise, Jesus loves you so much. And so, do I. You are my everything, my hero.” I dropped the phone.

I had to go to Louise. I had to see her. I had to comfort her.

As I raced from the crisis center, I heard playing from an open dorm room window Elton John’s “Someone saved my life tonight.”

Now as we celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary, she lovingly reminds me “You are my hero.”

On that grim night I became a hero for my hero.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful; I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place; when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” (Psalm 139: 13-16, NIV)

“For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord.  (Psalm 117: 2, NIV)

“ This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son, Jesus as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” (1 John 2:10, NIV)

(Scripture, New International Version, NIV)

Acknowledgment: Reedsy Prompts

Author: Pete Gautchier