I was rescued, once

I was only 21 and in a big jam.  So much so, I did not know where to turn, who to ask, what to do.  I was pregnant and my options were limited.

I remember sitting on the pavement at the bus stop.  Worrying, wondering, trying to figure out a way which fitted in with my youthful plans.

Then I saw it.

I was hanging from a cliff.  No ropes or safety equipment.  The gorge was so deep that I could not see the bottom.  Only the long, long fall.

My arms were getting tired and I knew that I could not hold on much longer.  People started appearing.  Everyone had a suggestion:

“Step there, that should give you leverage to haul yourself up!”

“Move your hand slightly to the left, there is a rock you can hold onto.”

I did not consider any of it.  Just hung there, hoping.  My fingernails were tearing.  The weight was too much for my arms.

More people who loved me and were afraid.  They starting shouting at me in frustration.  I looked down and wondered how long the fall would last.  Could I die in mid-air?  Would I hit something on the way down?  I shook my head.

Then he appeared, walking towards me.  There was no panic about him, or fear of any sort.  When he reached me, he simply bent down, grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me onto solid ground.  I was safe.

I knew that I would be okay.

I still am.  That jam took me along a path I never wanted to walk, with people I did not foresee and heartache I would have wanted to avoid.

The thornblanket became my biggest gift.

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