Thursday, May 2, 2013
Today, while helping my brother and sister-in-law move (well, maybe all I really did was drive my mini-van back and forth), a couple of us stopped off for lunch and after lunch I proceeded to run into a nice man named Frank. I mean, I really ran into him. I put the van into reverse, looked both ways, and backed straight into his very pretty new-looking truck. I looked both ways, but somehow I failed to look directly behind me. Then I swore. Probably about half a dozen times. I returned my to my parking spot and got out to assess the damage. I was met half way by a man somewhere around the age of my parents: he wasn't angry, he didn't shout, he didn't even look annoyed. The first thing he did was to ask if everyone was okay. I was struck by his kindness; he genuinely seemed to care. We introduced ourselves and exchanged the necessary information. Frank seemed as bummed as I was about the whole situation and told me he'd give me a call after he had his bumper looked at. Frank even smiled a little, not a mean, smug smile, just a reassuring "I know you're human too" kind of smile.
When I got back in the van I noticed a sticker for a local church in the corner of the rear window of Frank's truck. But Frank didn't need the sticker to tell me that he was doing his best to follow Jesus, he had already shown me: he had loved his "enemy" by being kind to me. Frank treated me the way I think he would have wanted his daughter treated if she'd have done the same thing. Frank showed me Jesus today.
I wrote this a couple weeks ago, less than a week after it happened, Frank called to tell me that the dealership said the only way to fix the truck would be to replace the back bumper. Then he told me that since it was just some minor cosmetic damage, he didn't want me to have to deal with the insurance or to have to pay to replace the bumper. He wished me well and that was it.
Crashing into Frank has taught me so much.