If you're a guy and you have read the Bible, been "raised right" along the way from childhood until now, or taken "Roles Of A Man" with Don Munton at Houston's First Baptist Church, then you know that protecting the women in our lives is one of the many roles men are called to play.
That said, it caught me off guard when I was protected by a woman on our trip.
Almost the entire team went into Old Havana for dinner our first Sunday in Cuba. We dined outdoors on a cobblestone plaza in the shadows of an old cathedral, with blooming bougainvillea draping the balconies of the colonial era buildings surrounding us.
Before we settled down for dinner, though, we roamed the streets around the plaza in search of bargains and gifts, pictures and memories. It did not take long to find what we were looking for.
I was approached by a woman with a silky purple dress that fit her like a twin sheet on a king mattress. She struck a pose or two and asked me to take her picture (with my camera, mind you.) Her English was poor and her accent thick so I am not quite sure what she wanted in return for my taking her picture with my camera. But I did hear her claim to be a dancer at the famed Tropicana Nightclub in Havana. And I do commercials for Bowflex.
(If you've been on a mission trip with me, you know that I am not opposed to striking up a conversation with a local. In fact, I love it. However, I did not want to make such a connection with anybody on my first day. My options needed to remain open. Besides, those relationships typically do not blossom until after you get back from a mission trip.)
Going in for the kill, she sauntered over closer to me, coming perilously close to making physical contact. Not that I do not like being touched, but she was eyeing my pocket (with my wallet) and not me. She clearly saw me as a potential sugar daddy -- an object -- and not a person. That's just offensive! (Can I get an "AMEN!" fellas?)
Without a second to spare, an arm mysteriously locked with mine, gently pulled me away from the would-be-seductress, and said, "Honey, let's go over here and check that out!"
It was Jessica Reeve. Like her namesake, Christopher Reeve, she had come to save me from peril and doom. Before I really knew what had happened, we were outside of striking distance and on our way around a corner down another cobblestone street and joining the rest of our group.
Being saved feels good. Yes, spiritually -- but physically, too. Thanks to Jessica for being tuned in to what was happening and for stepping up and helping out. I wonder where she gets her practice and experience?
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