Surprised by the compassion of Jesus THROUGH me in the
face of my own pain and the reality of one of my worst fears. I'm learning what
it means to SEE and LOVE like Jesus....
My husband and I are triathletes, which, among many
things, mean we ride a bicycle on city streets. (Yes, it is legal; share the
road. But that is another topic - a rant, actually - for another time.)
Yesterday, at 5:05 AM, on the way to the group ride, my husband was hit from
behind by a motorist. A rare morning that I was not on the ride, our dear
friend and fellow cyclist calmly called 911 and then me. On the phone, she did
not mention what kind of accident; I did not ask. But driving to the scene, I
put two and two together and knew. I was walking into one of my biggest fears.
Upon arrival, I hurried past the police cars with
their drivers keeping watch and the fire truck with men packing gear. Claude's
crumpled bike, lights still brightly blinking, caught my eye. I gasped an
expletive, and my friend reminded me, "It's replaceable," while her
pained eyes pushed me to climb into the back of the ambulance.
I was unprepared for what I saw. I have been the one
in the back of an ambulance after a bike crash. I expected the broken bones and
road rash, but the impact to his face and the pieces of the car's windshield in
his forehead catching the light were...well...no words. Choking back tears, I
looked for a place that my gentle touch would not cause more pain, declared by
love, took my instructions from the paramedics to meet them at the ER, and
staggered out of the ambulance mumbling instructions to myself, trying to keep
my head clear and emotions stuffed. Now was not the time to loose it.
Making my way to my friend, I heard a still small
voice. "The driver. Go to the driver." (Reader should note: I have a
LOT of pent up hostility toward drivers while cycling. We live in a very
hostile area for cyclist. Again, another topic for another day.) Suddenly, I
was filled with inexplicable compassion. "Is that the driver?" I
asked my friend. She nodded, and I made a beeline for her. In that moment, I
did not know if the driver was impaired or had been distracted when her car
plowed into my husband...when her thousands-of-pounds machine took aim at
Claude's 165 pounds of carbon + flesh wrapped in spandex. I still don't. I just
knew she had not fled the scene, and for this, I was immensely grateful.
I asked her name and offered mine. Apologies tumbled
from her lips; she immediately knew who I must be in relation to the cyclist.
It was a surreal moment in time. I offered forgiveness, compassion, and peace.
I did not feel hurried or urgent. I stayed in the moment and prayed for her. I
knew when I was done, hugged her, and turned to face whatever laid ahead.
Looking back, it was somewhat of an out-of-body
experience, compelled by love to offer compassion to someone who had caused
great harm to my beloved. It was not me; it was Jesus...Jesus showing
compassion through one of His followers...bringing His Kingdom into a dark
place of pain. I will be forever grateful to have been in that moment, outside
of myself.
Pray for Claude, but pray also for Aeriel.