Hero Story

Katelyn Vashaw-Hollon

Mrs. Marietta

PATH Comp & Lit II

11-16-11

                The day at Jackson Hole Mall seemed to be a normal one. Doing some early Christmas shopping, I was surprised when one of my closest friend’s phone rang. I jumped into the air almost as high as she did, earning a laugh from the rest of our friends.  A second after lifting the phone to her ear, she paled. Noticing this, everyone stopped talking. She looked scared, very scared.

                She ended with, “Okay, we’ll be right over.” With the rest of us begging her for information, she pushed us to practically run back to the car. Only after we were driving away did she finally tell us what the matter was.

                A group of young women from one of the best-known churches in the area had slid off the road, and some of the girls were severely injured. Most of the girls were our friends, and we were all extremely worried for the lot of them.

                Some of us were unsure as to whether or not we should go. (“We’d just be a nuisance.”) But Josie convinced us all, “If there is anything we can do to help, anything at all, then it’s our duty to do the best that we can in the service of others. They would come to our aide if we needed it, but for now, it’s the other way around. We have to go.

So we went. With half of us telling the driver (Lindsey) to hurry up, and the other telling her to slow down (“So we don’t end up like them!”), the car was quite loud.

                “Everyone! Be quiet!” I was a bit surprised to hear the words coming from my mouth; I hadn’t thought my irritation was that great. “Com’on, guys, we need to say a prayer.” Even though we weren’t exactly of the religion of the accident victims, we were all Christian, and we had gone to church with the girls pretty regularly.

                The van became silent except for the purring of the engine. Another of our friends, Veronica, ended up leading the prayer, pouring her heart out to our Father in Heaven, begging Him, if it be His will, to let them be safe and warm, and to grant them strength to help them endure all that may or may not be paining them at the time. She asked Him to grant peace to the girls’ families, to give them faith that their daughters were in His hands.

                We didn’t talk any more on the way there, some of us being too scared, others thinking about what they could do to help the girls out.

                When we finally came upon the slide site, we all rushed towards the edge of the road. There, we could barely see the car at the bottom of the ravine, with several terrified teens inside. It looked like the seats the furthest back had been squished, which meant the girls that had been sitting there were probably gravely injured. Emergency personnel were already at the scene, with a rope pulley-system set up to bring those badly hurt to the road in what looked like long sleds.

                We watched the process as slowly, oh so slowly, the girls were pulled out of the car. All of us put in as much bulk as we could into a sled to be taken down to the freezing girls. We had to stay at the top, shivering, as our jackets, socks, shoes, and everything else we didn’t strictly need were lowered down.

                The girls who weren’t desperately in need walked up themselves, allowing rescue members to envelop them in warm embraces when they finally reached the top. Some were crying uncontrollably, it was a wonder as to how they could see the ground to have been able to make it up the steep slope.

                I began to wonder what, exactly, had been going on. Though some were crying, everyone was also smiling, and most were humming a tantalizingly familiar tune. I remembered that it was “Count Your Blessings”. During one of my visits to their church, they had performed the song in front of the whole congregation. They sang so beautifully, you almost could have believed angels were singing through them.  How could they be thinking of counting their blessings at a time like this?! The idea seemed almost . . . inhuman. While everyone else was worrying if all of the girls would survive the night, they were glad what had happened had, well, happened. Shaking my head in exasperation, I continued on, helping were I could, comforting where I couldn’t.

                It was a long process, one that brought more sadness as more of the accident’s results became known, but it was worth it. Knowing I was there, knowing I helped someone, that I just might be one of their heroes, was enough to give me strength, strength I could then give to those in need.