By the Skin of My Teeth

My dad wouldn’t tolerate a “wimpy” attitude. He wanted me to be brave in all situations and not “back out” or give up easily. One summer day, my parents sent me to the store on my bike to get a few things they needed. The store was about a mile from our house and I had ridden there and back before with no problems. About a quarter of a mile from the store was a house that had been vacant for a long time. We knew, however, that someone had recently moved in. As I neared the house, I saw a huge, mean-looking dog sitting in the front yard staring at me. I slowed down and as I got nearer, the dog stood up, baring its teeth and began to growl. I stopped and stared in disbelief. This dog was a “killer” and it had no intentions of letting me pass by without ripping me to shreds. My first impulse was to just turn around and go back home. But then I’d have to face Dad and tell him that a dog had kept me from completing my mission and that seemed worse. So, after some considerable thought, I decided to arm myself with a rock then ride past the dog as fast as I could go, throw the rock at the dog, and hope that I didn’t crash or the dog didn’t grab my leg and pull me off the bike. I knew that in either case, it would most likely be fatal. I picked up the biggest rock that I could find in the road. It was a little smaller than a baseball. I held it in my right hand and took the handlebar in my left hand. My heart was pounding so fast and hard, I could hardly get my breath. I said a little prayer and started peddling as fast as I could. I chose the left track, for a little more distance between me and the dog and as I got nearer, the dog shot out into the road, coming straight at me with its teeth bared, snarling and growling. When it was about three feet from me, I threw the rock as hard as I could. I heard a popping sound, the dog yelped and skidded past my back tire to the side of the road. I kept pedaling as fast as I could until I reached the bridge, then I looked back and didn’t see any sign of the dog. My legs were so weak that I couldn’t ride the bike any farther, so I got down off the bike. But then my knees were shaking so much I couldn’t stand and I had to sit for awhile until I regained my composure. I went on to the store, got what we needed and then headed back home. I crossed the bridge and as I approached the house again, a feeling of calm came over me and the fear I felt earlier was gone. I wasn’t sure why until I spied the dog, sitting against the porch steps, licking his bloody nose. It looked as if a couple of teeth were missing too. He sat there in silence so I rode past and the next time I came down the road on my bike, he hid behind the house. Looking back on that situation, when I think about what happened there; riding a bike at full speed, a dog coming toward me at an angle at full speed, throwing a rock as hard as I could, and making a direct hit on that dog’s nose, had to be either pure luck or Divine intervention. Think what you want; I know what I think. That was the first time I had marched, head-long, into the face of danger. I’ve done it a few times since then and realize now that it’s the only way I can do it. Face your fears and responsibilities; don’t back down; find a solution. And don’t forget to pray.