The Moment - For Mary

You’ve all seen them along the side of the road—street shrines honoring someone who died in a traffic accident.

This one is a memorial to a 22-year-old girl named Mary, and to a moment in my life I will never forget.

I was driving through a mobile home park when I spotted Mary coming toward me. We met again at an intersection near the pool. Both of us stopped. Both waved for the other to go. I went first, and she followed me down the same road toward the exit.

I’m telling you this seemingly boring part for a reason.

I remember being struck by how beautiful and happy Mary looked as we sat there at the stop sign, waving each other through. There was something about her expression—happy, glowing, completely full of life. It has stayed with me all these years.

She followed me out of the complex and onto the main road. I saw her in my rearview mirror turning out behind me.

Then I went back to my real mission: getting to Matt’s baseball game on time.

A moment later, I heard a noise behind me. It wasn’t particularly loud. I glanced in the mirror and saw two cars stopped in the road. I figured it was probably a fender-bender. For a moment, I was going to keep going and do my best to make the game.

Then I decided to turn around and see if I could help.

I remember thinking I couldn’t believe I might miss my son’s game over a minor accident.

As I approached the two cars, the scene began to come together in all its awfulness.

An older woman was in the first car. She was crying and asking me to help her. I tried to open one of the doors, but the impact had sprung them shut. A couple of pool guys had also stopped, so I asked them to see if they could pry a door open and get her out.

Then I went to Mary’s car.

The engine and Mary were occupying the same space.

That beautiful, angelic, full-of-life, everything-to-live-for girl needed a miracle.

But who could possibly help her?

With all the technological arsenal of mankind, all the advances made by brilliant scientists and doctors, was there anything that could save Mary?

What if someone had arrived with everything necessary to extricate her from the car? What if they had all the knowledge and equipment necessary to treat shock and catastrophic trauma? What if a paramedic helicopter happened to be flying nearby and could have landed within a minute?

What if all of those things had happened at exactly the same time?

According to the officers at the scene, Mary would have died anyway.

Here’s the miracle part.

She got me instead.

She got an overweight, aging ex-jock with no particular special talent—but with the only thing left that I could give her.

Love.

In that moment, I felt a love for Mary that I still can’t adequately describe.

I believe God loves me, and I believe He had put me there so I could share some of that love with her.

Mary was still alive. She couldn’t respond to me verbally, but I held her hand. I talked to her about my Dad—God. I told her what I knew: that He listens to me, that He has a relationship with me, and that He has always been there when I’ve needed Him.

I couldn’t get her out of that car.

I couldn’t repair what had happened to her.

But I could make sure she wasn’t alone.

I could hold her hand.

I could talk to her.

And I could tell her about the God I knew.

At that moment, no hospital, no hypodermic, no amount of money and no physical skill I possessed was going to change what had happened. But perhaps this overweight, aging ex-jock with no particular special talent could still give her something.

Go figure.

“But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God has chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.”
1 Corinthians 1:27