Good afternoon family,
The other day something amazing happened to an officer I know, and like his story, there are countless others like it. For us, this is just another day on the job and not worth mentioning. But due to recent events, I want these stories to be told on a regular basis. If you are currently on the job, retired or have a police story you want to share, please email me. I want to share them. I thank this officer for answering his calling and I thank God for the calling He placed on his life.
Humbled to serve,
Jorge
I am a small piece of a broken mirror reflecting something great. ~ Jorge Alessandri
Here I (still) am Lord; Send me
I guess I should start off by mentioning that many people would be surprised that I am the one writing this. You see, my relationship with God is one that is very personal to me. There are very few people that know how deep my faith runs. It is a relationship that was forged in battle, personal and professional. I became a police officer over twenty years ago and have been blessed to come to work every single day with the drive of a rookie. I always wholeheartedly believed in the adage that “if you enjoy what you do, you will never work a day in your life”. Not only did I love my job, but I was surrounded by real warriors. Warriors that put others’ needs before their own. Recently, I found myself losing my professional battles.
Like many others in law enforcement in the year 2020, I found myself questioning if this was for me anymore. Maybe I could learn a trade? I know a bunch of retirees that go into real estate; maybe I could do that? I could not believe these thoughts were running through my head. What happened to me? Then I remembered. I was being blamed for something that an officer that I have never met, did hundreds of miles away.
I was not alone in my feelings of hopelessness. In every corner of the police station, you could see it. Groups of people all talking about the same thing. It was all over the news. All over social media. A career I once loved. A calling that I thought I answered. All I knew was now being vilified. I was ready to just give up and let society fend for themselves.
As I drove home from work two days ago, my mind was racing after leaving a meeting about two of my fellow officers who were under a frivolous investigation. My faith was at a breaking point. That is when I realized I missed my exit! I was now in the express lanes of the highway and would be forced to have to go farther than I had wanted to. It was too late; might as well just make the best of it and drive.
It was in these express lanes where my life came to a grinding halt, literally and figuratively. Out of nowhere, traffic was dodging something in the road. As I got closer, I could clearly see it was a body. There had been a violent traffic crash and now there was a body of a young female in the middle of the express lanes of the highway. Without thinking, I ran out of my car to her. As I got to her, I heard her say, “I can’t feel my legs”. I immediately grabbed her head to make sure it did not move. Amazingly, two other drivers stopped by and asked me how they could help. I assigned them different tasks, which they did without hesitation. As I sat with the young lady, she looked at me and asked, “Am I going to die?” Very uncharacteristically of me, I said “No; God is with you and so am I”. She then looked at me as tears began to pour from her eyes. As if on cue, the sky opened up. A lightning storm came out of nowhere. I ran to my car and grabbed a spare uniform shirt and covered her. As I waited for fire rescue and the highway patrol, I hovered over her to protect her from the rain.
There were now two good Samaritans standing with me. Both made small talk and mentioned that they had both just moved here and could not believe how much it rained in Miami. One was from Washington D.C., and the other from Texas. As I found it odd that two non-Miami people stopped to help me. Fire rescue finally arrived. As I helped strap the young lady to the backboard, I held her hand and asked, “What’s your name, darlin’?” She looked at me and said, “Glory”.
As she was being loaded into the rescue truck, I stood there in the pouring rain and began to process what had just happened. Without even thinking about it, without asking about race, without worrying about the coronavirus, I ran to help someone I never met and would probably never see again. The Samaritans that stopped to help me, did not care about defunding the police, did not care about social media, did not blame me for what an officer did hundreds of miles away. They were good people that wanted to help me save a persons’ life that they too had never met.
I got to my car soaking wet and sat there. I sat and I thanked God that he had put me in “Glory’s” path. That is when I decided that I still have a job to do. As I drove home, I remembered one of my favorite books in the bible, Isaiah 6.8. Much like Isaiah, I no longer felt worthy to fulfill the Lord’s mission. I felt that I was flawed. Even with my flaws, I know now that when the time comes and God asks who he should send, I will still be here to say, “I am here; send me”.