Out of the Mouths of Babes

On the evening of September 9 the sweet, bright girlfriend of my oldest grandson Trevor, was driving home from school when a drunk driver ran a red light going eighty five miles and hour and T-boned her car.  The truck struck the drivers side of the car, almost completely severing it in half.  This young woman now lies at deaths door on life support.  The shock of this tragedy has reverberated through the school and the community.  Endless prayers spiral heavenward on her behalf from family, friends and countless others who do not know her.

In the midst of our concern for Mia one person has been forgotten.  The driver of the truck.   Forgotten by all of us, perhaps, except Devan, Trevor’s fourteen year old younger brother. So many of us, including me, impulsively cry for the drivers head on the proverbial platter, decrying again and again the destructive effects of drugs and alcohol while demanding our pound of flesh.  Not sweet, kind, compassionate Devan.

Devan asked his mother what was going to happen to the driver.  His mother explained the possible consequences to the driver depending on whether Mia lives or dies.  That evening as Devan offered the family prayer, he paused in the midst of his prayer then asked his Heavenly Father to “bless the driver that he will find his way.”

I cannot imagine the flood of emotions now swirling through the mind of the man who was driving this truck.  In an instant his life has changed forever and he will never be the same. I have to assume that he is now sober, contemplating an uncertain future, fighting turmoil and a fire that cannot be quenched. It has taken a child to remind me of the need for compassion for the “other victim.”

I will pray for Mia’s recovery and I will pray for a nameless, faceless tortured soul who is also a son of a loving Heavenly Father.

 

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