Tanya Ashworth/AZ, CO

Does Your Mother Know Where Your Are? Part 3

When a stranger stands ominously in front of you with a look of evil in their eyes the natural response should be to go into a protective mode. That was not what I did when faced off with a strange man all alone in a strange house in the middle of the night.

Later on I would learn that he had already raped two other women and I was to be the third.

My mother had raised my sister and I to be “ladies.” One of the traits strongly instilled into us was to never raise our voice, never to scream. “A lady does not scream.” So I stood there looking at this strange man with fear so thick that no thoughts could get to my brain. I was numb, solid cement numb. But I knew I must not scream. I did think to myself, “If he touches me I will crumble into a puddle. He must not touch me.”

Then, out of the clear blue this is what occurred. My body started shaking exactly like someone going into an epileptic fit. I am not epileptic but what that intruder witnessed was a severe case of epilepsy. What he saw and heard was me pointing a finger at him in a very disciplinary manner and with extremely slurred speech these words managed come out between the shaking and the saliva and the stutters, “Young man, does your mother know where you are?!”

Why on earth that particular sentence came out of my mouth, I have no idea. Apparently, it was exactly what was needed at the time because he tore out of the house and went running down the street.

Like I said, I was numb but the next thing I remember was that I was standing on the porch screaming. Screaming! It was past midnight and there I stood nonstop screaming. I had no idea that I had that ability in me because I had never screamed before.

A group of college age guys where having a party a few houses down and some of the guys ran up to the porch to see if I needed help. I didn’t stop the screaming but simply responded to them by pointing out the direction that the intruder had taken off in. The party guys set out in chase.

When I finally stopped screaming the realization of being all alone was equally as frightening. I desperately needed someone to help calm the intense fear I was encased in. That was when I dimly made out the figure of someone casually walking down the sidewalk in the dark of night.

The figure walking towards me was that same man from the seminar several weeks earlier, DW.

“Why would he be here?" Where is he going at this time of night,” I asked myself.

He came up to the porch and in a very gentle, kind and reassuring way he said, “You know who I am.” I nodded in agreement. And then he held me while I cried and cried and cried some more. All the emotions were pouring out of me in buckets.

Yes, he was a stranger, someone I had never met before but he was right, I did know him. He had been sent here at this exact time and place. I know the One who had sent him so I knew DW as well.

Me and DW were on the porch when the police arrived. The porch light was on so it was easy to see.

The police were there to investigate the “would-be” rape and were optimistic because, unlike the other two women that they had attempted to speak with I was unharmed and therefore should be able to provide them with the information needed to catch the guy.

I brought the police into the house so that they could question me. I went through the entire story. I ended the story telling them about DW, the guy from the conference that just happened to also appear at my doorstep at the exact time when I needed someone the most.

The police responded, “Who is DW?”

I said, “You know, the guy that was there on the porch with me when you arrived.”

The police looked at each other and did that “roll your eyes” kind of thing when you don’t believe what you are being told.

I said, “You know. You saw him. He was right on the porch. You brushed right next to him when going through the door.”

They did not respond.

The police left at just about the same time as when my girlfriend, Cheryl, finally made it back home. I told her all about everything that had happened that night, about the intruder and the guys partying down the street and about DW.

She responded by saying, “Who is DW?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, “you would have to know him. He goes to your conferences. He’s that nice looking black guy. he looks like Denzel Washington.”

Cheryl didn’t hesitate a second. “There are no black people in our group.”

(This occurred in the 70’s. This particular religious sect have since changed their closed-door policy.)

God had warned me. He provided me with protection and He provided me with a comforter. I saw God through His proxy. It was a horrifying experience. If given the choice, however, I would never choose to not go through this experience because I was able to see God at work and watch Him orchestrate the entire event so that I came out unharmed. Only God can do such marvelous things!