someone to show you how to live
Josué De La Cruz Saved My Life
When I was a young boy Josué De La Cruz saved my life. My third-floor apartment on the northwest side of Chicago was fully involved in flames. The Latino firefighter crawled up the steps beneath the smoke, through the fire, and carried me to safety. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for him.
He visited me in the hospital the next day. I thanked him for his courage and sacrifice. He told me he was happy to make a difference. We chatted for a while. His Spanish accent reminded me that he was from a completely different culture than mine. It was hard to understand him sometimes, but I was grateful. I fell asleep and he was gone.
My family found a new place to live but I included Josué in my prayers every night–for a couple of months at least. Eventually school took all my attention and life returned to normal. I was surprised five years later when Josué turned up at my college dorm one night. I was coming back to the dorm very late–trying not to attract the attention of the Resident Assistant.
"Man," he said with that accent. "You know it's really dangerous to drive home in your condition. You should be more careful."
I was embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess so." I shoved my hand forward to shake his. "Hey man, thanks for pulling me out of that fire back then."
