I thought reading the news story about three siblings being killed in Indiana while getting on a school bus yesterday was bad enough. I mean, I have three daughters! The idea of them all being taken from me in one fell swoop was absolutely devastating. I thought the things I’m sure most people did.
Who doesn’t know to stop behind a school bus with its flashing lights and stop sign out?!
I might have even thought things a lot of people did not.
How must that woman who hit them feel?! This has ruined multiple family’s lives.
It was an awful tragedy. But then I saw more news this morning. I saw a news report this morning from an area near my own hometown where another child was hit getting on a stopped school bus. I wondered what the chances were of seeing this terrible type of accident happen twice in such a short period of time?! What did it say about us as a society when it became normal for children to be run over while innocently getting on the bus to go to school?
We’re in a hurry.
That’s what came to my mind.
I don’t know the specifics of these accidents, and I don’t know the story behind each driver. I would never try to stand as judge and jury for the people driving the vehicles, but I think I can safely say that they were probably in a rush. How do I know this? Because that’s what we do. That’s who we are now. That’s our societal norm. We are a hurried, harried, rushed generation always on the run from Point A to Point B. We look at the drivers of these vehicles as thoughtless, careless individuals, but I think if we’re truly honest we will see ourselves behind that wheel. I mean, we could easily have been there.
How many times had I cursed a stopped school bus on my way to work, running late? Was it really necessary for them to come to a complete stop at a railroad track?! I had never passed a stopped school bus; I knew better! But how many times had I driven less than carefully, even with my own children in the car, while I rushed to get us all somewhere on time? Could I not just as easily have hit a child while speeding through a parking lot or residential area?
I think of the man’s eyes from two days ago. I can still see the agonized, surprised, regretful, thankful look on his face as our eyes met for that brief millisecond before he sped by. He had almost killed me. Killed me and the two-year-old holding my left hand. In downtown Charleston, South Carolina, sightseeing and smiling, I had watched the red hand signal turn into a white, walking pedestrian, and I had put a foot forward to cross the street with my young family in tow. Out of nowhere the man in the SUV had come, running a red light, disregarding the pedestrian crosswalk, and even the family of five standing there to walk across. I don’t know how we didn’t get hit. Maybe I stopped just in time. Maybe it was my husband saying urgently, “watch out,” or perhaps it was the hand of God. I don’t know, but I’ll tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t the man swerving or slowing. When I saw the look of terror on his face I knew he had not meant to run the light or almost kill my toddler. He had been in a hurry to get wherever he was going, and his not meaning to do it would mean very little had he hit us.
Let’s face it. We see stories of children being hit by cars back to back, one day after the other, even within the supposed safety of a school bus boarding, because our world has changed. It’s hit the fast-forward button, yet the limitations of humanness remain. We believe we can beat the limits of time, but our bodies still fall victim to the reality of mistakes and their consequences.
We live in a world of high-speed Internet, Walmart grocery pickup, and Amazon Prime. We don’t have to wait for standard shipping, checkout lanes, or even a limited web connection. Nothing can slow us down! Except, perhaps, the people around us.
We immediately honk at the driver ahead of us at the red light.
How dare they wait 0.01 seconds before they accelerate forward?!
We curse the audacity of the old lady going the speed limit on a one lane, curvy road.
How dare she slow us down?!