My 11 year old son was hit by a car. Not to fret… he’s not injured. A bit stiff and sore, and a couple of scrapes and bruises. But it could have been a very different day.
The particulars of the accident are that he didn’t see the vehicle that hit him until it hit him. The driver of the vehicle tried to stop, but had no time – she did not see him until the last second. It was a busy (main) street in town – so the impact was 30 mph. Isaiah said later that he wasn’t paying attention… he just wanted to get home. He knows he was in the wrong, and should have stopped at the light. And, no, he was not wearing a helmet either.
Minnesota averages 900 bicycle/vehicle accidents per year. This one could easily been avoided. Though not too common, others have died from similar accidents – even in our own community of Marshall. The reasons why Isaiah was not seriously injured I can only be thankful for. It could have been a very different day.
And that has me re-thinking my same old world with new appreciation in light of what we have experienced.
I usually pray when I hear sirens, or come across an accident scene. My prayers might now be a bit more focused, include more people, or last longer. For fresh in my memory is a scared 11 year-old kid strapped to a stretcher whose parents haven’t arrived yet. If the standard treatment of care is as the doctors at ER gave to us, anyone in such a collision is in for a long day being evaluated, and waiting for the results.
ER, and Trauma rooms have a new meaning to me. Though we have been there with members of our family several times (3 cut corneas, two broken arms, stitches, internal bleeding concerns, and so on) I was awakened to the fact that people have died in that same room. The same staff that gave us such great care have had to witness horrible scenes, console distraught parents, and acknowledge their own limitations – even though we treat them as though they are “limitless”. Where I sat while Isaiah had blood drawn, and evaluations done, a different Dad has sat in grief, and disbelief; uncertain of how to take the next step.
My thoughts shift to my own road skills. What about the times that I am in too much of a hurry to come to a complete stop? Or too rushed in looking both cross traffic directions that I miss seeing that vehicle in my blind spot? Or skate or bike too fast toward a corner and can’t stop myself? I am guilty of such actions, and I MUST become more aware of the times I’m feeling rushed, or am in too much of a hurry. I need to slow down so that I am not the cause of something far worse than what I’ve just experienced.
Tomorrow I get to go back to work, have lunch with my family, and talk with my friends as if its just another normal day. But it won’t be. Tomorrow will be a different day. I’ll remember to slow down, to be more thankful, to pray a little longer, hug my kids more, and be upset with them less. They are just kids, after all, and relatively speaking, they are no less perfect than me. Tomorrow, Isaiah and I are going to go for a bike ride… past the same spot he was hit. And without needing to say a word, we will acknowledge the blessing of just another day.
2018-12-19