Back in the early 90s I was working as a paraprofessional, a teacher helper in NYC. I was young, well-dressed, and looking good! There was another ‘para,’ an African-American girl who was always hitting on me. “Hey Cruz…” she would say every time she saw me. “Nice shirt” or “nice pants,” she’d say. Once, after our Spring break she saw me and said, “I see you got married over the break.” I looked at her wondering what she was talking about. She said, “The ring. I see you’re wearing one now.” I told her I had been married for 8 years. She had never noticed my ring but I assured her it never came off.
One day, she says, “See, Cruz, you’re not the only well-dressed guy here now” as she pointed to a new worker. He was a younger-than-me, good-looking, well-dressed African-American guy working as a para, who was also very friendly. I was glad for her! Got her off my back! One day, not too long after that, as we were leaving for the day, I saw him and said, “Good night, see you tomorrow.” He waved smiling and we were gone.
The next morning, I walked in the office and as I wished a good morning to the payroll secretary, I noticed a woman standing before her speaking in hush tones. I thought it strange but headed to my room. During the day, some news came about.
The previous day, the young man had told the payroll secretary and the teacher he worked with that he would be absent the next day to take care of some things. At about 1:30 a.m. as he was involved in a hobby of his, communicating through a ham-radio, he got electrocuted. It was his wife in the office that morning sharing the terrible news. It almost seemed as if he knew he wouldn’t be returning.
About two days later, I walked in to the teachers’ lounge and a teacher there said, “Oh my God, it’s you, you’re alive!” I looked around wondering who she was talking to. It then hit me. She said that it had been reported that the young, well-dressed ‘para’ who worked with Ms. Rivera had died leaving behind his wife and small kids. That would’ve been me. She was so glad to see me, that she hugged me. The difference was that the other guy worked for a Ms. Riviera. Obviously, the name was mispronounced. It was very sad that the guy died at such an early age.
Years ago, I read an interesting book, Mistaken Identity by Van Ryn, Cerak, Tabb about a similar situation where two almost-look-alike girls died. Can you imagine burying a child thinking she was yours, only to learn yours is still alive? Or thinking the child before you, is actually yours, only to learn she isn’t, and you never had the chance to say your goodbyes? Some stories are definitely stranger than fiction.
As sad and heartbreaking as some stories go, there’s one thing you can be confident of: whether your name is spelled Schwartz, Schwarz, Schwartze, Swartz, (or other variants of the name), or Juan Rodriguez, or Jose Rivera (Most common names amongst Hispanics), God never mistakes you for someone else. That’s good and bad. On the plus side, if you serve Him, you’ll be getting your just rewards. On the negative side, if you don’t serve Him, you’ll be getting your just reward too. There’s no escaping Him. You won’t be getting blamed for someone else’s deeds. And surely, no one will be able to say to The Great I AM, “Do you know who I am?” Or, “Do you know who you’re messing with?” Trying to cause Him to think He’s made a mistake, or trying to impress Him with their credentials. The Eternal God makes no mistakes. “…For before I formed you in the belly, I knew you…”(Jeremiah 1:5a).
“I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14a NIV)
God Bless!
Sam