A Blinking Yellow Light

Finally, a moment to get lost in processing the mixed results of another scan that just minutes before lit up my phone and dimmed my hope.

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Stuck in my tracks, I missed the opportunity to make the U-turn as the traffic finally stopped. The light continued to blink.

A loud honk from a truck behind woke me from my spiraling thoughts. I quickly made the turn, but as I looked back I could see his longest finger waving out the window, accompanied by the word “asshole” that echoed down route 25.

At first, I felt the need to explain, to tell him why I stalled- that my scan showed more cancer, that I suddenly felt that pit in my stomach that comes when you are reminded of your fleeting mortality.

I wanted to tell him that I was digging deep for a brave face to wear for my wife who was waiting at home to dissect and google together every word of the clinical report that would cause even more tears and confusion.

I wanted to tell him about 16-months of surgeries, procedures, and 24-rounds of chemotherapy that kept me from family gatherings, weekday dinners, soccer practices, books and prayers before bedtime.

I wanted him to think of my children, or even better, his children. If he could feel, just for a moment, what I would feel when I kissed my girls goodnight.

I wanted him to feel the guilt of his actions, to maybe weigh down and transform his heart so next time he would be more gentle, more understanding, more patient.

These rapid thoughts ended by the time the next red light occurred, but as I tossed and turned in bed later last night, I revisited this experience. My exhausted heart wondered what hurt was boiling over that led to such a disproportionate expression of rage. If I asked, “Where does it hurt,” what would he say?

I pondered if he was also processing difficult news, for either himself or someone he held dear. Maybe it was less serious yet still pressing, such as a closing window for a much needed break from work, or someone was not-so-patiently waiting for his return. Could he be hurting from a disgruntled boss, disappointed spouse, a persistent debt collector? As Coach Lasso said, hurt people hurt people.

Perhaps the crunching of time made that blinking yellow light, and my few seconds of immobility, too much to handle.

As I journeyed down the road of possibilities, I looked within. I recalled those times when my car’s horn blasted the one in front of me as I was heading nowhere fast. I remembered those times my patience and empathy were far less than my anger, when I failed to see the divine light in the stranger or neighbor in front of, next to, or behind, me.

Before I finally closed my eyes on this challenging day, I sent a prayer above for this stranger in the truck. I asked God to comfort him, to alleviate whatever wounds may be exposed, and that next time, he would send empathy instead of outrage.

I then prayed for myself, that the next time the yellow light is blinking and my turn has not yet come, I will be a channel of empathy and peace for only God knows why the one in front of me is paralyzed.