So over and over again we hear the phrase “ a pictures is worth a thousand words”, but sometimes a thousand words can give us a picture that a photo could never compare to. Recently at an amazing event I had one of those moments that gave me many 1000 word pictures in my head.
The event was the wedding of Dallas Weins and Jamie Nash, and it was a remarkable event in itself. But the moments that happened along the day just kept giving me memories. At one particular moment I was seated across the table from a reporter from People magazine. She was there to catch moments and memories of why this wedding was so extraordinary.
While she was waiting to interview people, someone was brought over to meet her. He was a civilian rescuer of Jamie. Jamie’s life was changed by providence when she lost control of her car and was trapped and burned as it caught fire after the wreck. A young man happened by and through heroic attempts to help her forever changed his life also.
As I listened to how hard he tried to save someone he didn’t even know, I became more and more sad for him.
The full effect of this happenings dynamics became crystal clear after Jamie walked over to join us. She was still in her beautiful pink wedding gown, and so very beautiful herself as she sat across from me.
After she sat down the contrast of this crossroad in both of their lives took a bit of a turn. Jamie herself has every right to be stuck in the tragedy that came from her decision to do what her nonprofit and mission tells everyone every day to TXT L8R. She had been texting while traveling a lonely road in Ellis County. Her decision contributed to her current life and to the pain she has worked her way through. Numerous surgeries, loss and therapy have led her to a life with Dallas Weins, her new husband. Both believe that they might have never found each other if not for what many of us would label their tragic moments, but they call Providence.
But my thousand words today are really more about the young man that was sitting to my right at the outside table in downtown Ft. Worth. His tears were teasing his eyes the whole time we sat there as Nickole asked him question after question to try and get an understanding of that horrific night.
He recounted the steps, his anger, his frustration and his haunted memory of all that transpired to change his history. He mentioned that he was not a saint, he was frequently in trouble in his life, but he felt so sure that he was brought there that night to save her. Even as he was telling how helpless he felt, he found a way to at least keep the flames somewhat at bay and save her face.
After Jamie and I had been listening for a while, he mentioned the attempt to keep water on her face to help her horrible fate. And Nickole looked at Jamie and asked her “Do you think he saved your face?” and she said as she squinted a bit at the memory “Most definitely.”
And while I was so inspired by this man setting just a few inches from me, I could not help but hurt for him too. His memory of that night was as graphic as Jamie’s but the outcome for him left scars that no one can see. He is damaged in a way that has frozen him at the roadside inferno. He feels as if no matter what he did, it was not good enough. He holds anger at those who seemed to dismiss the tragedy and just drive by. He feels disdain for the officers who arrived at the remote location and who only to seemed to walk slowly to the car. To him they seemed to not feel any urgency to help with the rescue. He is stuck in the video that he watches of that night taken with the dash mounted camera of one of those officers.
He doesn’t for a second even recognize the acceptance and understanding of that night that comes at him from Jamie. Her scars are not hidden. Her story is of pain that most of us will never even come close to understand. Her damage to her physical self is not only evident to her every day, it is right there for all of us to see. Even as she looked amazing in her dress, she wore her scars to remind us that even in tragedy there is beauty.
She seemed to wince at the retelling of his pain. She seemed to recognize as did I how his tragedy was in some ways worse than hers because he was still living it. He is still reeling from what couldn’t be done instead of celebrating this amazing woman across the table from both of us. She is alive. She is happy. She has found her purpose after her journey down that deserted road that night. She has found her Providence Lane.
I still have a moment or two where I remember that young man, and I feel a bit of sadness for him. I even asked if he had ever considered therapy to help him move on. His answer left me feeling as maybe though some time in his near future he would see the need to make a step past this one memory forever burned into his soul.
I can remember many different moments in life where no one would hold it against me if I got stuck there. I would not be condemned for a moment, but I would lose the message and discount the blesson if I allowed myself to play the role of victim or even for a moment forget that in everything there is something for us to grow past.
