A year ago Ty had to have one of his top front teeth pulled. And lemme tell you, he thought he was real cool having a tooth gap before his big brother.
On Monday night Tanner joined Ty’s world and lost the same tooth, so we celebrated over yogurt. And because we are those parents who bribe their kid with 12 toppings if “you’ll please just let us pull that thing out ‘cuz it’s hanging by a thread” to yogurt we went with two toothless twins.
After a cup of butterscotch/strawberry/chocolate yogurt combo (how do kids stomach this?) covered in a torrential downpour of M&M’s, Oreo crumbs, sour gummy worms, cherries – is that 12 toppings? – you get the point, the four of us perched on plastic outdoor seats and enjoyed cold treats while watching Tanner discover how to squeeze his tongue into the empty space.
Suddenly, from the street, there was a loud crunch and something went flying in the air. Life stilled and people paused. Bryan and I sprinted to the edge of the grass as we saw cars clear to reveal a young man who had been hit while skateboarding across the cross-walk. The driver, a young girl, moved in a daze toward the man. Everything moved in fast-forward. Cops appeared, a fire engine, then an ambulance. Phones came out of pockets and chaos buzzed.
A huddle gathered around the scene. Witnesses talked with cops. Lights screams and onlookers gawked.
We stared. Frozen. Shocked.
The only thing was, I wasn’t watching the man on the ground. He was being cared for. He would be fine. I was staring at the girl who’d been driving the car. The one who’d hit this man. I saw her clutching her phone, wailing into it, and stumbling up the embankment to find a steady place to sit. She was alone. She was petrified. And I wished I could run across traffic, past the huddle, to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay, even if it wasn’t.
I turned around to see our boys staring wide-eyed, their mouths gaping, their spoons holding melting yogurt.
“What happened?” they yelled.
“A skateboarder was hit,” I shouted over the noise. I threw my arms around them and we shakily prayed for the man. That God would be with him. And that God would comfort the driver.
I ran back to join Bry at the edge of the street and behind us we heard Ty. We turned to see him standing on his plastic chair, proclaiming with everything in him, “God, please be with that man. Please don’t let him die.”
He stood tall and confident and waved his arms as if declaring it to everyone.
And the next morning, the first words out of Ty’s mouth moved me to tears. “I hope that man is okay, mom.”
“Me too, baby. Me too. Don’t ever stop praying for people.”
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing. – 1 Thessalonians 5:16-17