Walking by on the other side

I went for a walk with husband and dog as usual this morning.
There was a commotion on the route we normally take and,
before we could see clearly what was happening, I went to go the other way.
But husband was already ahead, interested in the activity, and I followed,
as I often do.

We got closer and saw damaged cars and men standing on the pavement near us.

A  police car arrived and the officer went to the woman still sitting in her
side-swiped car and asked if she was all right.
I could not hear her reply but I could see she was holding herself
upright as if concentrating hard on something intangible.
Perhaps she gave the almost automatic ' yes,thanks'  in spite of
her situation, not wanting to make a fuss.
Convention doesn't help us in times like these.
I wondered if I should stop and go over to her until someone of her own
came to offer comfort.

But I didn't.
I kept walking and the policeman left her and turned back to his vehicle.
The men on the pavement  chatted on their phones,
and one a little further away took more pictures, careful of his angles
and the light.

The woman was alone.

We turned the corner.
I hesitated.
I thought about what it might be like to be shocked and alone.
To be without a hand to hold.
There was an almost tangible impulse.
I said 'I think I'll go back.'
Husband and dog continued their walk.

Only two or three minutes had passed, but by the time I got back,
there was someone else by the car.
She had a cardigan on over her uniform and her young hand was on the
woman's pulse. Human touch - woman's hand to woman's hand.
I heard an ambulance in the distance.

I went by another route to my destination
and thought about the Good Samaritan story.
I've always thought that I would be that Samaritan
the one who stopped and took care of the man
at some personal cost and inconvenience.

But what I discovered this morning was
a less attractive reality:
I was the one who gawked and passed by
the one who hesitated but moved on
until the Spirit reminded me of
who I am supposed to be.

I had missed an opportunity to help another person
even for a couple of minutes.
I had missed an opportunity to touch Christ.