In an Instant

They were driving home from the lake, still in swimsuits and barefeet. In a black suburban with picnic leftovers in the cooler. In the backseat the two-year-old slept in her carseat and the nine-year-old gazed out at overcast skies and a light drizzle. Very unusual weather for Colorado in August. Dad turned the volume down on the radio. Mom remembered that the whites needed to go in the dryer as soon as they got home.

We drove past the scene just minutes after it happened... the suburban was turned sideways in the northbound lane. The Forrester was part way into the ditch, with a smashed hood. There was blood, and the man in the Forrester could not get out, but he was talking to one of the people who had stopped to help. I saw a nine-year-old boy sitting beside the suburban, his head bowed low. He looked alright. A few feet away two people were holding a woman in their arms. She was breathing. I think she belonged to the Forrester.

"Should we stop?" I asked my friends. I wanted to stop, but I was afraid. I was driving us home from our girls' weekend in the mountains, cozy and comfortable in my new Rav 4. We had all gotten our mochas earlier, Bono was singing quietly in the background.

"No, keep going," one of them replied. And then, "Wait - you're a nurse..."

I pulled over, slammed the door, and began running toward the scene. As I approached the black suburban, I saw a woman, in her barefeet and beachware... her eyes were bloodshot, with no tears. She was gripping her chest. Shock.

"Ma'am, I'm a nurse, what can I do to help?"

Her desperation hit me like nails... "Oh, thank God... please help my baby! She's hurt!" She pointed me towards the backseat. "Do whatever you can to help her, please! She's bleeding!"

I climbed into the backseat. There was another woman there, feeling the child's feet for pulses and applying pressure to her head. The baby was still strapped in her carseat.

"Should we lay her down?" another person asked.

"No, keep her still," I said. "Is she conscious?"

"She's coming in and out," the other woman said. "Kayla, wake up, Baby." She was stroking the child's feet and hands, while still applying pressure to her head.

"She has good pulses," I said. "Keep her conscious." I saw the baby move her foot, but her eyes remained closed.

"The paramedics will be here in 3-5 minutes! She's our #1 priority!" The police officer shouted from behind.

There is nothing as chilling as a child with blood on her face, or as sobering as a mother with the terror of death in her eyes. "Kayla, wake up, Baby, stay with us, honey." The ambulance arrived and I got out of the way, returning to my car. It was silent. Bono had been turned off.

"What happened?!" My chest ached.

Why am I writing about this? So many of my blogs are about the "beautiful" moments in life, and this scene was a taste of hell. Witnessing this tragedy brought two things to mind... that anyone's life can change in an instant, and every moment, no matter how seemingly mundane, matters. I was also struck by the reality of compassion unfolding all around me. There is so much evil in this world, you don't have to look very far to realize that. But the beauty of compassion and genuine love was overwhelming me, as I watched people (with their own lives and places to go) pull off the side of the road and embrace the blood of total strangers. Now that is truly beautiful.

Humbled by the fact that I had done very little to help, I thanked God that compassion was so alive in the people around me, and begged Him to allow little Kayla to run marathons one day.