Crossing town on a rainy morning, I rolled into an intersection after a cyclist had cleared the road. My eyes followed him, empathizing with one exposed to the elements, especially since he was carting home bags of groceries slung from the handlebars. But then the bike slowed, wobbled dangerously and fell on its side, the rider sprawling onto the verge, now in the grip of a seizure.
I veered onto a cross street and pulled up on the shoulder, rushing to his side as he thrashed in the gravel and mud. I shouted for someone to call an ambulance as I spoke to him, unresponsive though he was. There, with nothing but the company of a stranger, his provisions scattered in the rain, he, soaked to the bone and bloodied from his fall, began to regain his capacities. Overcome with chagrin, he shook his head declining all help of a ride or a call to summon family or friends. Stumbling to his feet, dazed though he was, he collected his purchases without a word, righted the bike and pedaled away into the rain.
I have no inkling of his politics, his ancestry, experiences or aspirations. Still, I have pondered him with wonder. Yes, though young and strong, he had been felled by a weakness that left him all but naked with a stranger in a storm. But he may not know that the stranger was deeply touched by his mishap, less with pity than with self-recognition in the biker’s helpless state. A hidden truth had announced itself at a most inelegant moment, a truth that lies beyond refinement, heroics, class or creed. The biker, the stranger, indeed our entire race is united in this primordial, but priceless trait: we become next of kin in shared weakness. And no window dressing can alter that truth.
What can abrade us in company with others, what erodes joy or even civility, may obscure this treasure brought to light by misfortune in a storm. At our deepest, whatever our bewildering differences, we are wonderfully and mysteriously kin. Might this be the enduring appeal of the season? That in extremis, together even as strangers, we listen for night-time stories redolent of bonds surpassing weakness, of hope snatched from dismay, of a darkness spangled with light.
Thanks, Jonathan for reminder of who and what we are. Blessing to you and Mary Kay during this Christmas season.
Hello, Max! Yes, there is something calming to lay hold of that lies beyond the sturm und drang of politics and culture. Something we can bring to the table of holiday gatherings. Something inescapable. Something that will make the eyes rim with tears. Something that will hold the tempests in check.
Thanks Jonathan. Good reminder that, especially in circumstances like that you describe in that story, we are all neighbors (or should be), ready to help when help is needed.
Hi, Jim! In this case, there is the mystery that the ‘helper’ is the one who is helped. One of those upside down mysteries. Merry Christmas!
Good story. Funny, how my friends and I were talking about this same phenomenon today. Merry Christmas!
Hello, Lori! Such righteous friends you have! Finding and keeping such must surely be the ultimate Christmas blessing!