As I’ve said multiple times previously amidst these posts, every now and then there’s an incident or event that promptly causes me to dismiss what I originally intended to say. Today is one of those days.
In the late hours of Thursday night, just before midnight, a long line of traffic was slowed to a near standstill due to construction on the interstate near my alma mater. Notably in line were a semi-truck, Honda Pilot, and Toyota Yaris. Behind them was a fourth vehicle — driven by a man who when he looked in his rear view mirror, shockingly saw an 18 wheel tanker rapidly nearing at full speed behind them — not slowing for the construction zone. The driver of the fourth car somehow was able to swerve his car out of the way, but the tanker then hit the three aforementioned vehicles, reportedly at full speed.
The Yaris was first knocked into the adjacent ditch, killing the driver, a promising postdoctoral physics student at Purdue. Next hit was the Pilot, driven by a beloved mom and respected optometrist — a member of the community in which I grew up. Also in the car with her were her two young sons, 8 and 10.
When the tanker hit the Pilot, it caused the stationary vehicle to spin initially into the median. The tanker then struck the semi, at which time the tanker caught fire and the Honda Pilot spun into the two semis, also then catching fire. When police arrived on the scene, the tanker and the Pilot were fully engulfed in flames. The driver of the tanker, the mom, and her two children were killed.
My heart aches. I simply cannot easily, emotionally grasp the depth of this tragedy.
Hence, what caused me to pull my planned post today is the thought that moments such as this should make us pause. These moments should stop us. These moments should stop us in our tracks, shake us to our core, and prompt us to ask ourselves what we really believe. What we believe should then affect how we behave.
But we’re too busy. We go from one thing to the next to the next to the next. It’s not that we’re engaged in so-called “bad things”; we just keep going on life’s continuous treadmill without stopping to take note of the surroundings.
If we did take note of the surroundings, I wonder what we’d do differently…
I think we’d be better at putting ourselves in the shoes of another… I think we’d take more time to listen and honor and view the perspectives that are different than our own… I think we’d be better empathizers… I think we’d quit shouting at singular people or people groups…
I think we’d be less likely to embrace and repeat extreme, rhetorical rants — realizing that the often, originally legitimate rant sometimes evolves into a disrespect of someone else… I think we’d be more respectful as a whole… I think we’d be humbler… I think we’d have fewer blindspots…
I think we’d be better at taking time to acknowledge and thank the great big God of the universe. Ever since the world was created, God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been evident. Often, though, we don’t seem to pause long enough to see him… thereby becoming far too dependent and puffed up on self.
As said, it’s hard for me to shake the death of this mom especially. As any who have felt such dire loss across the country — from California to the Carolinas — we share in the grief of the families who today struggle with the depth of such unthinkable tragedy. How do we honor the victims?
Might I suggest we begin with a pause…
Respectfully…
AR