My wife and I were pulling into the grocery store parking lot, the evening sun casting long shadows, when I saw something that instantly erased the dinner plans from my mind. Right in the middle of the entrance road, just yards from the busy crosswalk, lay an older gentleman.

I slammed on the brakes and rushed out of the car. Another man, Mark, was already kneeling beside him, checking his neck. “I can’t find a pulse,” Mark said, his voice tight with urgency.

There was no time for hesitation. We quickly pulled the heavy man out of the path of oncoming traffic and immediately began chest compressions. We worked frantically, switching back and forth when our arms failed, refusing to give up on a life that was rapidly slipping away. Meanwhile, a crowd gathered—but they only watched, frozen in shock and fear. We were the only two moving in a world that had suddenly locked down.

The Heavy Silence of a Second Chance

After what felt like an agonizing eternity—though it was probably closer to five critical minutes—the paramedics finally arrived. They took over, hooking up the defibrillator. The tension in the air was heavy enough to break the frozen silence of the onlookers.

They shocked him once. Nothing. They shocked him again. Still nothing. Then, on the third try, suddenly… they stabilized him.

A police officer came over afterward, his face grim but relieved. He shook our hands, his grip firm. He told us the man had suffered a massive V-fib heart attack. He said plainly that without our immediate, fast action—starting CPR the moment he hit the pavement—the man wouldn’t have stood a chance, not even for a moment.

The Most Important Introduction

The true reward came this morning. His family reached out to me, their voices thick with gratitude, and invited me to the hospital to meet him.

His name is Stephen.

I walked into his room to find an incredible man with a warm heart, sharp blue eyes, and a sharp sense of humor, hooked up to monitors but fully awake. The doctors later explained that Stephen technically died three times on that roadside, but survived because help came fast and effective. They added a sobering statistic: the survival rate for out-of-hospital cardiac arrest is less than 10%, and they couldn’t remember the last time someone who went into V-fib made it this far.

As we talked, Stephen shared a beautiful detail: every year, he plays Santa Claus for all the local kids and hosts a massive “Meet Santa” event at the high school, a tradition he has upheld for two decades.

“You didn’t just save me,” Stephen said, his voice surprisingly strong, “You saved Christmas for a lot of kids, too.” And he promised that when he’s fully healed, we’re going to grab a couple of beers together—the best kind of celebratory toast.

You never truly know what will happen in a single moment—or how your actions might change someone’s entire story. Sometimes, simply knowing what to do and having the courage to act can be the profound difference between someone going home to their family… or not. Today, I’m just thankful Stephen, the town’s beloved Santa, gets to go home.