Traffic halted. It was not for an ambulance, or a speedy police car. It was not for a bus, or a semi, but it was for a man. He was hunched back and shuffling across the street, looking down in shame. We all stared from the comfort of our cars—paralyzed. Each snail-paced step made him closer to the sidewalk, and safe from our gazes.
I whispered prayers, and my heart broke. "Lord, we are broken and sick." I cried from a safe distance. "Would you heal this man, Lord?" I uttered in my vehicle. Helpless and oblivious, I sat and stared.
Then I saw a glimpse of grace. A young woman got out of her truck and came alongside this man. Placing her hand in his, she crouched down with him and guided him to a safe haven. Time stood still as we watched and waited. I stared in awe and shame.
Traffic continued.
Hot, stinging tears filled my eyes as I drove on that morning. I had failed, but there was grace. She embraced a crippled man, and a paralyzed heart.
1 comment:
What a picture, what an image. I need to be that woman. I usually watch through the comfort of my life.
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