We were walking to the gym in the morning Florida sunshine, as is our regular Monday routine. My son — for those of you who don’t know him — is this vivacious, articulate, musically-gifted 20 year old. There are days he claims to be a rap star. I just think of him as a star.
He happens to have Down syndrome, but no, it’s not what defines him. I happen to be about 5’8”, an avid sports enthusiast, and have a really weird birthmark that somehow resembles the combined landmass of Europe and Asia. None define me either.
Sometimes he likes to still grab my hand while walking. It’s a sweet thing. Sometimes, too, there is genuine need for directional help.
On this recent day, we were a little early in our pursuit. Such caused the traffic to be a little fuller, most at the onset of their day. We came to a decently busy two-way stop, with the other road freely flowing. Let me try to help you envision the scenario a little better…
We stood still at the stop sign. A white sedan was stopped at the sign across the street, waiting to turn. The traffic between us was neighborhood-slow but also steady.
In our neighborhood, which is sort of the bomb of nearby ‘hoods, in my opinion — we do community well — but consistent with our community desire to honor and care for, pedestrians always have the right of way. That means stop sign or not, cars are encouraged to stop, allowing the walkers to proceed.
But on this particular day, the cars that were coming from the free-flowing cross-street didn’t slow to a point where I was comfortable stepping out into the street immediately with my son. I couldn’t tell for certain that they were going to stop for me. And so instead of strolling right through the cross-section, I stopped. Josh and I paused for maybe an extra 2 seconds, possibly 3.
The gentleman in the car waiting to turn reacted immediately. He honked. At me and Josh.
Now no doubt compared to all that’s going on in the world today, this story pales in comparison. I agree. Yet knowing God cares about all things big and small and uses them to teach each of us in our every day, I couldn’t help to just shake this story. I kept thinking about the man in the car, his reaction, and how when I made eye contact with him in his car — and his approximate 3 year old in the back seat — how he just glared. At me and Josh.
Friends, let’s give him some grace. Really — no judgment. We’ve all had moments when we’ve chosen to honk. And no doubt several of us still adamantly insist that such was the exact right thing to do.
But I keep thinking about one question…
What did the man in the car not know?
What could he not see — what did he not realize — that prompted him to justify the honk? … the glare? … the clear impatience?
He couldn’t see the needs of my son. He didn’t know he sometimes struggles with directions and crossing streets. He’s a 20 year old, growing young man.
He couldn’t tell that I was actively gauging the oncoming traffic. He couldn’t tell that in my assessment, the cross traffic hadn’t yet committed to stop.
And he couldn’t tell that we had zero intent to inconvenience him. We had no desire to impact him negatively. I was solely focused on the safety of my own kid — no doubt the same reason his kid sat protected in the car seat behind him.
He and I were both protecting our kids. He and I both had places to go. The situations just looked a little different. We weren’t in any competition with one another, but he couldn’t tell that because our destinations differed.
So the question that comes back to me in yes, just a simple scenario, is: where do I honk? … especially when the destinations differ?
Where do I justify glaring at another — and maybe still hang on to a mistaken judgment — because I don’t know what I don’t know?
I love how God teaches us…
Every day. In the ordinary. If we don’t shake the stories too soon…
Respectfully…
AR