As we reflect on our lives, we all have those moments that change the way we think or even who we are as a person.  It could have happened once, or maybe multiple times, but in the end, we are changed.  These are sometimes very personal and hard to relate because of the impact it rendered in our life.    This story is about one event that changed the Meaning of Life for me.

The situation I am going to relate happened about thirty-five years ago.  I had only been married a couple of years, with a new baby boy.  My job at the time was selling insurance.  I was referred to a man by the name of Bill Kelly, who owned a small grocery story.  I had set up an appointment with Bill to finish up the paperwork and get his signature to insure his business.

When I entered the store, Bill motioned me to the back of the store to a table where I could lay out the paperwork and discuss the details of the policy.  As we discussed the details, two individuals, male and female, both of Hispanic origin, came into the store.  They began browsing through the store.  The woman was taller and seemed to be in charge, doing all the talking.

Bill, looked up from the paperwork and asked, “Can I help you find something?”

The woman said, “We came in here about six months ago and you had some pinatas.  Do you still have them?”

“No, we have never had pinatas.  Are you sure you’re in the right store?” asked Bill.

“Oh, yes, I am sure,” she said as she hurried up and down the store isles.  Then she looked through the door that led to the back room.   At this point, I could tell that Bill was feeling uneasy about their presence in the store and said with some authority, “Get out of my store!”

They both left the store.  Bill and I resumed our discussion of the insurance policy.  Suddenly, the man and women rushed back into the store, and I found myself looking down the barrel of a long black pistol.  One of those you might see in a Clint Eastwood Western.

I could not believe this was happening.   Was I dreaming?  This type of experience only happens in the movies, but not in real life and especially not to me.

The women shouted, “Put your wallets on the table.”  Bill grabbed his from his back pocket and placed it on the table.  I began to reach inside my suit coat for my wallet when the woman said, “Shoot him.”

My pulse quickened, I looked at the gun pointing at my head and expected it to go off.  I said, “Wait! Wait! My wallet is in my coat pocket.”   The gun did not go off and I reached in and pulled out my wallet and set it on the table.

I was then told to lay down on the floor and as I was laying down, I heard her say again, “Shoot him!  Shoot him!”  The gun was still pointing at my head, and I expected my life to end.

In those, what I believed to be, final moments of my life, I could see my wife in a bed smiling at me.  I felt her great love for me.  Next to her was a small bundle curled inside her left arm and hair poking out the top.  The doctor was there talking with us, saying, “Everything is fine, your baby boy is doing well.  I’ll stop by later to check on you.”

Words cannot express my feeling of joy at this time.  My beautiful wife and my new baby son.  I remembered thinking that I was going to be the best dad I could be for this new son.

Then, the realization of where I was and the peril I was in returned and the tears began to flow.  My thoughts moved from me to my wife and son again, and what life would be like for them without a husband and father.  I imagined my son asking his mother, “What was my dad like?”

“Shoot him!  Shoot him!”, was yelled and again, I was back in the present situation, and I was still alive.

She yelled, “You, “pointing at me, “get under the table.”   Doing my best to obey, I slid under the table, which provided me a bit more safety.

The gun was now pointing at Bill, and they began to work him over.  Bill was around sixty-five years old and had had heart surgery.  I was concerned about his health, but not sure what to do.  If I tried anything, they may have shot Bill.  The women took the key to the cash register and emptied the contents of the till.  I started praying for a miracle.

The woman came back to the table and instructed the man to shoot both of us.  I realized that if she had been holding the gun, we would probably have been on the nightly news.

The man looked confused and torn as to what to do.  He then turned and ran out the door.  She yelled, “Get back in here and shoot them.”  Seeing that he was gone and not coming back, she turned and followed.

The police came and interviewed us, but all I could think about was going home and hugging my wife and holding my baby boy.  Seeing that gun, hearing those words, and in the end, being able to walk out the front door alive, gave me a whole new perspective on how fragile and beautiful this life is.  I thank God every day for that miracle on that day.