Intersection Column | The Silliest Sheep
- mtlmagazine
- Jun 30
- 4 min read
by Dana Mentink
The Lord watches over His sheep, even the silliest one that meanders over hill and dale, completely oblivious to their surroundings and with zero instinct for survival. I am that sheep, it pains me to say. Case in point? I traveled from California to France recently. In my defense, I very rarely leave my little Northern California home, so my traveling skills aren’t honed. Even so, mind you, I carefully packed my passport and even included a paper copy for safety’s sake, because that’s what savvy travelers suggested.
It was smooth sailing until we reached the bustling Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. I made it all the way out of the baggage claim area before I realized I’d left my backpack hanging on a hook in the airport terminal restroom. Frantic, since I’d exited the secure area and could not return, I approached the French airport security people with my embarrassing story. They asked me for identification. This sheep realized she had cleverly packed her passport AND the paper copy along with my photo ID in the backpack. Which was hanging in the restroom. I had only my phone, pathetic language skills, and a heaping helping of panic with which to convince airport security to allow me back in. In time, they did. I was assigned an amused escort and I prayed all the way to that airport restroom. God provided. There was the backpack, untouched. My relief was boundless, but don’t think I will ever forget the feeling of helplessness that came over me in that airport.
Helpless? Me? With my cell phone and computer skills and all the knowledge five decades of reading and an internet connection can provide? Completely. It’s an interesting feeling to be helpless, isn’t it?
I can recall a moment, standing on a highway on the big island of Hawaii, watching piles of lava from the erupting Kilauea volcano flow over a highway, swallowing up the road in billows of black as the lava cooled and hardened. Nothing could be done to save that road or change the path of the burning flow. I can still remember the glowing underbelly that burned so ferociously, the irrefutable force that gobbled up that road.
Fast forward to 1989. In the middle of a world series baseball game, the ground gave way during the Loma Prieta earthquake. The street outside our home ebbed and flowed like water, and overpasses collapsed in nearby cities. No amount of emergency planning, smart building, or high-tech warning systems could prepare us for that day. We simply had to wait, helplessly, until the shaking was over and the rescue efforts began.
Watching the lava and feeling the earth tremble awakened the same emotion. That feeling, the deep fear that comes with being unable to control circumstances, finds its way onto my written page quite often.
Dropping characters into circumstances where the earth under their feet is unreliable, where enemies natural and human are bent on their destruction, where they are cut off from their technology, their transportation, civilization itself with no way to summon help, feels almost cruel. Imagine you’re in a volcano eruption zone with no way out. Now add in a stranger’s baby, a vulnerable infant, delicate as a breeze, and you are their only hope to stay alive.
Why am I so compelled by those scenarios? Maybe it’s because I am the woman who loses her backpack in the airport. I believe that in those difficult, stressful moments when we accept our own helplessness, the grace of God shines. Real people and fictional ones survive. Wells of strength are discovered. Hidden rivers of resilience surface. Faith that defies circumstances rises like the sun breaking through the darkness. In those dire situations, people help one another, accepting grave risk to preserve God’s precious miracle of life.
Maybe that’s the benefit to helplessness. It’s in those moments when we cannot help ourselves, that God’s love shines brightest. Big cities, island roads, overpasses, in the shadows of volcanoes . . . in the darkest moments we realize we’re never truly without His help.
About the Author
Dana Mentink is a USA TODAY and Publisher's Weekly bestselling author. She has been honored to win two Carol Awards, a Holt Medallion, and a Reviewer's Choice award. She's authored more than fifty novels for Harlequin’s Love Inspired Suspense, Revell, and Poisoned Pen Press.
About the Book
In the shadow of a threatening volcano, long-haul trucker Kit Garrido wakes up in her crashed big rig, unable to recall what happened or why she's suddenly in possession of someone's baby. Fiercely independent, she has to admit that perhaps this time she could use a little help. Former cop Cullen Landry doesn't want to get tangled up in the mystery of the beautiful woman with an abandoned infant, but when he sees the bullet hole in the windshield and the bloody handprint on the interior, he realizes that he's in this thing, like it or not.
Like the author, I felt completely helpless despite all the modern tools I had at hand. That sense of vulnerability really makes you appreciate small acts of kindness from strangers. It’s true that sometimes, in our lowest moments, unexpected strength and grace appear. Stories about overcoming helplessness inspire me deeply, especially when faith and resilience play key roles. For a lighthearted way to unwind after such reflections, I’d recommend trying Block Blast - it's a fun and engaging game that helps take your mind off stress.