DOWN HOME: Lessons learned at a busy intersection

Posted: 9/14/07

DOWN HOME:
Lessons learned at a busy intersection

Commuting is a microcosm of life.

Many folks, bless their souls, live in small towns, where commuting is nothing. But those of us who drive miles through city traffic every day view the gamut of human nature on the streets and expressways and overpasses of our lives.

This morning on the way to work, I witnessed the extremes of kindness and reckless selfishness within 15 seconds.

The Good Samaritan appeared first. Her dark-blue SUV grabbed my attention, because it was stopped on the left side of the road—out of the traffic lanes and partway onto the grass.

Then I saw the driver. Immediately, I knew what she was doing. She had waded out into the tall grass, still damp with morning dew. Her posture signalled her intent. She bent forward slightly at the waist, and she gently clapped her hands in front of her as she spoke into the distance. I followed her eyes and found what I knew I would see: A stray mutt, cowed by the whizzing traffic, shivering on the far side of the median, just a few feet from oncoming traffic.

Of course, you can debate the wisdom of parking a vehicle on the edge of a median in the middle of Dallas rush-hour traffic. But you’ve got to give that woman stars for care and compassion. No telling how many cars and trucks pass that spot every hour all day long. The little dog wouldn’t make it out of there alive unless someone stopped to render aid.

Seconds later, I nearly watched a wreck. The dog-gone (at least I hope it’s dog-gone) median is formed by two lanes of traffic that merge before splitting again so drivers can head to Dallas or Fort Worth.

The traffic flow through this ill-designed intersection “works” because most people remember what they learned in kindergarten: When two lines come together to form one line, it’s polite to let every-other person from each line take a turn.

This morning, a self-absorbed gal in a bright-red sports car nearly ran a white mini-van off the road because she apparently feels she’s too important to wait for one vehicle to get on the road in front of her.

OK, they weren’t going that fast, so nobody would’ve been injured. But thousands of commuters behind them could have been delayed by one person’s need to gain one car-length on the freeway. What a jerk.

Driving on in to work, I thought about the woman who took the time and accepted the risk to save a stray dog and the one who risked others’ property and time to “save” a few seconds.

And then I wondered about Christians today. Are we the kind of Christ-followers who risk our own safety and give our own time to help save people on the median between heaven and hell? Or are we so concerned about our own souls that we risk bouncing others into oblivion, just so we make good time through life?

–Marv Knox