I did it. I survived traffic school. I was definitely in the minority as a 46 year old caucasian female. The class was kind of in a seedy part of town. Not really my comfort zone. But the instructor was great – extremely bright and funny and kept us entertained for all those hours. That can’t be easy when you are dealing with people who are hungry, tired and many of whom did not have English as their first language. But he did it very well and kept most of our ADD tendencies at bay.
There was a young “kid” who approached me during the break to ask me about my ticket. I sheepishly admitted to my wrongdoing and asked about his. His was a case of not being able to stop during the rain storm a few days ago and hitting a wall. Fortunately, no one was hurt. But it was ironic. Most of us were there because of speeding and he was there because of stopping…
We talked for a few minutes until class resumed. He seemed to feel safe talking to me. After class, he held the door open for me as I exited. He said goodbye and mentioned that he was walking home. And all of a sudden, all I could see was one of my kids walking home in the dark in this not-so-good neighborhood, and I just couldn’t let that happen. I know that this will get me in trouble with some of you out there, but I did it. I offered him a ride home. There was a childish vulnerability about him that just made me want to offer my help. (I know, you can yell at me later for being foolish…)
In the three and a half minute drive to his apartment I found out that his name was Jason, he was 24 years old, was going to college now after two years in the military. He said that it had changed him, that it broke him down, in some respects, in terms of his self confidence. I asked him why. He said that he thought a big part of it was watching an eight year old child die in his arms. Wow. Yeah, that could do it.
We were already at his shabby little apartment on a sad little street and he thanked me for the ride and said it was great to meet me. As I watched him cross the street, my eyes welled up with tears and I ended up crying for almost the entire 20 minute drive home. I had just learned his name and found out within seconds how much he was hurting, and all I could do was drive away. I’m sure I will never see Jason again. And that kills me. To know that someone is hurting and that you have something, Someone to offer him, but literally no chance to do so. I wish I’d had more time with him to tell him that he is not alone. That there is Someone who loves him more than he will ever know. Someone who has a plan for his life, even if he feels like a different person than he was before. Someone who understands his hurt and sees his potential. I wish I could have shown him a little more Jesus…
And so tonight I will pray for Jason. That he will meet someone who can go beyond a car ride home to show him Jesus’ love.
