In the Dailies

In good old Indiana, where I was born and raised, drivers immediately pull over at first sight of an ambulance (or a police car, fire truck or funeral procession). But things are a little different in Jersey. Here the traditional response is to speed up and outrun the emergency vehicle or proceed as normal until they catch up to you. Then most people pull over a few inches, just enough to let the lights and sirens squeak by. Some, though, never move over. I think it’s an attitude thing. If the guy really wanted to get to the hospital, he should have timed it better. I was here first. Besides, there are EMTs in the back of that thing; he’ll be fine.

When I first moved here, I held tightly to my Midwest training, but soon encountered the ridicule of friends and insults from other drivers who didn’t understand why I would inconvenience them and their schedules just because some poor fella needed medical attention. Before long, I too was complaining about being late. I would pull over several times a day for these noble reasons only to accosted by drivers who wouldn’t let me back in traffic! (This is why those who do pull over only do so a few inches. If you pull all the way onto the shoulder, you could be stuck there for hours until a gracious citizen admits you back onto the road or a nearsighted grandma decides to stick to the speed limit.) The lesson learned, I’ve acclimated to East Coast driving standards.

This week when I noticed an ambulance in my rearview mirror, I kept driving. I watched and waited. I didn’t want the kids to miss seeing the cool flashing lights. Eventually he caught up.

“Hey, kids! Look out Ellie’s window. An ambulance is coming by! Isn’t that neat?”

“Um, Mom? Shouldn’t we pray for the people inside?”

Nothing corrects perspective quite like a child speaking truth.

When Ellie was much younger, before Zach could talk, I taught her to pray every time we saw an accident. I haven’t done that in a long time. My mind has become cluttered with so many other things that I just haven’t thought about it. I am more enthusiastic about showing my kids flashing lights and super cool construction trucks than I am showing compassion and living an exemplary life of prayer.

They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. Ellie got it down in much less. She has a beautiful habit of prayer, a wonderous habit of compassion. Those disciplines are more impulsive than habitual with me. Hopefully, though, her habits (learned from someone …) can rub off on me (again).