Gratitude

A few comments I've heard lately regarding my latest posts: things usually happen in 3s...hope this was #3! Also, my sister-in-law thinks I just may be making this stuff up! I wish I was making this stuff up, but I'm really not that creative or imaginative. Truth is stranger than fiction, right?

So. I guess this is #3, which puts the other stuff into serious perspective.

Yesterday after supper, I sent the younger two kids out to play. It was about 14 degrees outside - beautiful late winter weather. Our house is just off a street that is a closed circle (the one we used to live on), with very little traffic. The kids are free to run, bike or scooter around the block. We regularly go over safety rules and they are pretty careful to abide by them.

They'd already been outside for about half an hour when they came back. I said they could go around the block a few more times. Logan left the scooter behind and ran behind Taya on her bike. Less than 10 minutes later, Logan was back in the house, saying, "Mommy. You have to come. The tire on Taya's bike is all bent."

So I followed him down the street while he explained that Taya had bumped into a truck. I was puzzled when I found her on the sidewalk with her bike, alone. She was sobbing her poor little heart out, because her bike was wrecked. The front tire was completely bent, the pedals were stuck and the rest of the bike completely un-rideable. She showed me where her lip was bleeding, but otherwise, she seemed unhurt.

Apparently, while riding around the corner next to the sidewalk, a pick-up truck had come towards her. She must have panicked that the truck was too close, but she didn't want to hit the sidewalk and crash, and so she somehow bumped into the truck. I suppose that's a nice way of saying that she was hit by the truck. I have no earthly understanding how her bike is so seriously damaged, and she is so ok.

The kids told me that the man had gotten out of the truck and asked her if she was ok, to which she responded that she was. He asked her where she lived, she mentioned she was just on the next street, and then... that's it. He was gone by the time I got there minutes later. A grown man (grey hair and facial hair, perhaps in his 50s, according to the kids and driving a black pick-up truck - not someone we know from the neighborhood) drove his truck away from the scene where he just hit a 7 year old girl on her bike, leaving her alone while her little brother ran to get his mommy.

He didn't knock on a neighbor's door to ask for help. He didn't use his phone to call 911 or have Taya call me. He didn't wait for her little brother to return with his mom. He left. It was blatantly obvious that her bike was in no condition to be ridden, but he left. Can you understand this? Can you think of one possible reason why an adult, having just narrowly missed running over a girl and then wrecking her bike, would leave? I'm at a loss.

Taya was inconsolable as we carried her bike home. I promised her we'd either fix it or buy her a new one. At that point, I would have promised her a pony, anything. We checked out her lip, which was bleeding and fat, but otherwise ok. She said she'd had to spit some dirt out of her mouth, so she must have hit her mouth on the ground - she wasn't sure. She has no scrape marks on her face or hands, and I can only picture an angel cushioning her fall.

I phoned the police and soon we had a constable at our house, going over the whole situation. She was kind and helpful, but told us there really wasn't much we could do. She too was baffled that the man had left, but she went around the neighborhood afterwards, checking things out. Because the street is closed, there's very little traffic, and very little traffic that doesn't live on the street. However, we're not sure who this guy is or where he came from.

Once Taya settled down about her bike, both she and Logan told me and the officer as much as they could and I was amazed at how brave they both were. I was thankful that Logan had remained calm, so I didn't have to panic when I went to find her. I was so proud of him for helping his sister. Taya was very concerned about calling the police - she didn't want the man to get in trouble. She said, "But he didn't drive over my legs." Thank God for that.

We're trying to teach our kids to take responsibility for our actions, even when something bad happens accidentally. It's not easy, and it may cost us, but it's always the right thing to do. I have no desire to press charges on the truck driver, but I do hope that his conscience makes him do the right thing. He missed his first opportunity, but he can still do something about it.

Taya is anxious to get back on her bike. In fact, her daddy took her out this evening to pick out a new one, and I'm confident that she'll be zipping around the block as soon as she can. I am amazed at her ability to cope with what happened - it's us adults who become paralyzed with the fear of what could have been. I think of a few seconds or a few inches in a different direction, and a horribly different outcome.

I'm trying to stay brave and calm on the outside for the kids, but inside I'm still shaking. I am unendingly grateful that our sweet Taya is safe.