My husband and I are blessed to have dear friends who happen to have season tickets to all App State sporting events. We love going to the men’s basketball games and were in our regular seats for the game against Louisiana on February 17. As I sat down to write this, I was pretty certain we won, but honestly, I had to look online to be sure because that was the night an older gentleman only several seats away suffered a medical emergency and died at the game.
I had been chatting with the friendly lady sitting beside me (who
turned out to be the parent of one of my husband’s students) when we noticed
the medics coming down the stairs and heading to an elderly gentleman sitting
in the small section beside ours. The man was sitting upright but was not
looking at the medics. It was his wife who was talking to them. She did not
look panicked, but the medics were young and there seemed to be some confusion
as they took what seemed like a long time to assess the situation. We all kept
watch, my new friend and I praying softly for him, his wife, and all the people
attending to him. Things seemed to be under control, but they quickly escalated
as he became non-responsive and a police officer was called over to help move
him, everyone in the surrounding seats feeling the urgency and seriousness of his
condition. As the medics and police officer got him out of his seat and attempted
to carry him up the stairs, it was clear that they were not prepared for so
serious a medical emergency for such a large man. I found myself clinging to
the hand of the lady beside me as our friend and my husband stood ready to help
but not wanting to hinder the process. The medics finally got the man up the
stairs and immediately began CPR, which went on for what seemed like ages.
As the minutes dragged by and the efforts to save the man’s
life continued behind us, there wasn’t a soul in our section who was not overcome
and shocked by the dire situation. Some were praying aloud, others were silent,
but no one’s thoughts were anywhere but with that man and his wife.
The mascot for App State, Yosef, is a cheerful mountaineer who
is usually clad in a yellow and black flannel shirt, suspenders holding up his
black trousers, and a black felt flat-brim hat that he regularly sets upon the
heads of fans. He’s always appropriate and more polite than some other school mascots
when doing the usual mascot stuff – posing for photos, giving high-fives, and
accepting hugs from little kids. But on this night, without his usual high-energy
fanfare, Yosef came over to our section and simply began patting shoulders or
leaning over to gently fist-bump everyone who was in attendance. He slowly made
his way up the aisle, all his attention on us, clearly acknowledging the pain
of the moment and letting each one of us know that we were not suffering alone.
As he came to our row, I think that I gave him an appreciative smile, but I was
still in shock, silently praying for the man’s wife and thinking about what she
must be suffering. Yosef stepped into the row behind us, and suddenly, I felt
both of Yosef’s gentle hands resting on my head, this vessel conveying nothing
less than what can be described as holy and blessed compassion. It stunned me. I
didn’t move my head but looked wide-eyed at the lady beside me who had tears in
her eyes at the sight of our precious Yosef consoling me in the way he could. I
was so touched by this comforting gesture that I didn’t turn around but rested
my head into those hands, letting go of the breath I’d not realized I’d been
holding. His hands lifted and he continued up the aisle with his loving efforts
as tears of gratitude slipped down my cheeks. Well done, good and faithful
servant~ Matthew
25:23.
I have thought of this moment every day since, grateful beyond
words for our Yosef and the kindness, humanity, and spirit of mountain folk he
embodies so beautifully. I will never see him and not feel appreciation and awe
for the love and compassion he gave to all of us that night.
I knew it before, but no truer words have ever been spoken, there
is something special about these mountains, and whatever this sacred thing
is that inspires such compassion, reverence, and selflessness, this is my
testimony that it is reflected in those who call App State their own.
