I was 17 yrs old on the occasion of my first mugging. It happened on a quiet suburban street. My attacker Brian, was an emotionally disturbed young man. He assaulted me without warning, using martial jump kicks. My scrawny frame went sprawling with each onslaught. I was more bewildered than hurt. Brian pinned me to anembankment. He methodically pulled out a pistol and place it at my temple. Several other teens shifted nervously, asking him what he planned to do? They were amused when he physicaly bullied me- I was an unpopular nerd- the pistol however, had them worried. He ignored their half hearted attempts to calm him.
He looked me right in eye, “You better have some money – or else!” Brian had picked on me before but this was different, he had a deadly calm menace about him. I recalled his mother apologizing to my mom over his mental condition. As I quietly admitted that I had no money, he searched my pockets. The gun seemed enormous. I closed my eyes and said a prayer: “Lord, if he pulls the trigger I will be with You. If he doesn’t pull the trigger, I will thank You. Either way, I trust you. Your will be done.” I opened my eyes as Brian raged incoherently. The other teens had backed off, some were deliberately looking elsewhere. I noted in a detached way that the expected terror never materialised.
Abruptly, Brian demanded that I get off HIS STREET!
I left not looking back.
I thanked God as I had vowed.