Headlines about national and international issues are a daily fare, but every day, somewhere, events are occurring that affect some family for a lifetime. These events, whether for good or bad, take up the "headline space" in their family's personal front page of life's happenings. For the moment, such personal activity pushes aside bigger news like elections or wars in far-off nations.

Personal headlines like births, deaths, illnesses, accidents, marriages or divorces tend to overshadow other news. Allow me to share a recent "headline story" in my family. You won't read about it in the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post or the Times of London, but it left an indelible impression on us.

Recently, my wife and I had the opportunity to attend church with my parents. It was the first time in many years that my responsibilities as a church pastor had afforded the chance for us to get together like this. All of us really looked forward to the day, being able to sit and worship side by side with "the folks" and seeing old and dear friends. When we picked up my folks for church, my mother had mentioned that my dad seemed to be "under the weather" that morning. But he wasn't going to miss the special occasion.

As we entered to the warm welcome of the assembled brethren, little did we realize what was to unfold in the precious minutes ahead. About halfway through the services, my dad became noticeably silent and still. Then he whispered, "I'm going to go out for a while." Five minutes must have passed, and he walked back in during services and told my mom, "You had better come out." I was chalking this all up in my mind and began to wonder what was happening.

Next thing I knew one of the congregation's officials came up to me and said, "Robin, you had better come out. There's something wrong with your dad." As I was guided to the exterior courtyard, little was I prepared for what I would see or what I would come to learn. A "moment in time" had begun. The "video camera of my mind" began to engage as a story began to unfold.

The unexpected struck

There before me in an attractive little Spanish-style garden courtyard was my dad sprawled out on a bench with his head in my mother's lap. He looked "out of it," completely disoriented, a still shadow of the man I knew who was always on the go. My dad is no "spring chicken" at 79, but most of his family lives well into their 90s. There they were, Mom and Dad, a man and his wife of 55 years. Many questions raced through my mind. Was this it? Was he going to die? What happened? Was it a heart attack, stroke or fainting spell? As a minister all of my adult life, I have been involved in numerous emergencies, but now this was "our emergency" and our moment in time.

Although absorbed in what I could do to help, I was also aware of what others were doing all around me. Moment by moment, people that we didn't know and may never meet again became involved in our family's personal plight. I have no names to share with you—only what the people did.

Over the years, we have all read of stories where people were in a state of emergency and no one came to their aid. We have all heard and read of the rape victim whose screams for help went unheeded, or the person being mugged on the road whose plight was ignored by countless drivers whizzing by. Such real stories, and they are real, condition us to despair and make on-the-spot judgments of those who failed to heed the call. The bigger question is, What would you have done if you had been there? Would you have broken from the crowd and been different?

Well, this story is not about a mugging or a rape, but it is a simple thank you in writing to a crowd who took the time and recognized "the moment" to get involved. There truly are people out there who make a difference!

They each had a part

As several of us stood by my folks, one person took it upon himself to dial 911 and call for the paramedics. One lady, who appeared to be a professional office person, slowly worked her way through the crowd, and said, "Let me be of assistance. I'm a former paramedic." She quickly asked various members of the crowd to "back off" and requested someone to get a cold cloth for my dad.

People began to form a shield around him to shade him from the heat of the day. I looked around and each person caringly stepped in or out, forward or backward, to provide the wall of shade. They each had a part; they each cared. For one moment in time, this caring team of humanity had bonded towards a common goal.

Then another lady emerged from the small crowd and began to calmly, pleasantly, but ever-so-confidently move men and women into further action to assist my father. You might say, she just took over until the paramedics got there. Boy, did she take over, and I'm glad she did!

That's the last time I saw her and most of the crowd, because I ran out to wait for the ambulance and fire engine to direct them through a crowded office parking lot. The paramedics' professional demeanor and care was outstanding. They were not only concerned about the welfare of my dad, but the state of my mother who was certainly going through a traumatic moment. As soon as they got my dad's name, they started asking him questions like, "Jack, where are you? What day is it?" etc.

They were talking to him person-to-person like an old friend. It calmed the entire situation. Soon they had him in an ambulance with my mother riding in the front seat on the way to the hospital. My wife and I followed behind in our car. In a couple of hours, my dad was up walking. He had suffered a mild stroke, and he is doing fine now as I write this column six weeks later. But we didn't know that then, as we were going through this "moment in time" together with strangers who intersected with us at a critical news juncture in our family's own little world which is, after all, an important world to us.

Interestingly, the people at the church mentioned they had never seen the second lady who helped us that day. When asked, someone replied, "We don't know where she came from; we've never seen her before." When I heard that comment, I couldn't help but think of Hebrews 13:2 and the mention of "angels unawares." You see, I really do believe in angels. I also believe that God is not only the Creator of time, but also the author of timing. Why that day for my dad to have his stroke? Is it possible that it happened to strengthen our family?

While I do not believe that everyone there was an angel, there were many good folk there. I bring this up because we realize that prophecy firmly points to a time when, as it says in Matthew 24:12, "the love of many will grow cold." Why? In 2 Timothy 3:1 we see a part of the answer. "For men will be lovers of themselves." We all tend to become absorbed with our own life schedule of comings and goings, people to meet, planes to catch, children to pick up, traffic jams to avoid and work deadlines to meet. There is a fast-approaching time in which people will be totally disconnected from human feelings of tenderness and care.

Yes, we increasingly see and sense a growing "disconnect" in our society for the cares, even the emergencies, of others. These disconnected ones fall in line behind the priest and the Levite in the parable of the good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). But the Samaritan was different. Christ didn't call him good, and neither did the Samaritan identify his actions as good or bad. He simply did what had to be done.

At the end of the parable, Jesus simply asks a question, "So which of these three do you think was neighbor to him who fell among thieves?" (The term "good" goes unmentioned, in spite of the fact that most Bible readers for 2,000 years have assumed that Christ called the Samaritan "good.")

It is encouraging to realize there are still some individuals out there who don't dodge responsibility.

"I have done what I could"

The help given my father left a mark on me. It taught me a lesson. To be ready, to be on the alert, to be involved and to do what I can do, whatever my part, when the need arises. It again allowed me to realize that it is not the size of the job, but the "size" (or character) of the person that counts.

Leroy Brownlow in his book Today Is Mine shares a poignant story in his entry of February 3. This story can be ours in a stormy world of increasing darkness and unease. "In a roaring and flashing thunderstorm, a family gathered into what they thought was the safest room. They huddled in fear. One of them was a little girl who folded her hands, closed her eyes and prayed. Then she confidently said, 'Oh Mamma, I have done what I could.'" Brownlow adds "Oh! How it would add to life if we could say, 'I have done what I could.' The satisfaction would be most gratifying. Many a person, after living up to some strenuous duty, has been heard to say, 'Thank God I have done my part.'"

How often have we seen the pictures on TV of neighbors, friends and strangers bearing a stretcher or sandbagging a flooding stream? Or seen the fireman who went above and beyond to rescue the seemingly lost? The opportunities to serve are out there, and they will come to you someday in some way. Will you be ready to make an emergency call, give shade to others or run for a cold cloth?

Never, ever, underestimate your ability to serve, no matter the size of the need, because it all adds up to a big story in someone's life. No, your name will probably not appear in the newspaper the next day. No ribbon or certificate of good citizenship will await you. No "15 minutes of fame" is guaranteed. But you will have tapped into the reality of a new and different age to come—a world that is identified in Isaiah 30:20-21: "Your teachers will not be moved into a corner anymore, but your eyes shall see your teachers. Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way, walk you in it.'"

Six weeks ago, in a little Spanish-style courtyard outside of a church service, I think I saw some "teachers" and I got the point—"this is the way."