She sits at the corner, looking the other direction, I'm convinced, because her vehicle continues to edge out into the street as we're heading down the hill, towards her, and then everything goes into slow motion. The next thing I know, I hear brakes squealing and I, the passanger, am trying to use my 'imaginary' brake to make it all stop as we skid into each other and it's then, it's over. She's hit my dear friend's five week old new car and my leg, from my knee down, has cramped up and I cannot move it and the pain is screaming at me and my nerves are shot and Amy is calm and her car is dented.
So there we sit, in the middle of the street, my leg on the dash and her massaging it as traffic continues going around us. I tell myself to calm down, and to let the muscle relax. I'm not sure how long that lasts, but it relaxes, and we pull over on the side street and get out. Amy checks her car, then comes over, bends down and begins to massage my slightly hairy leg because it's cramping up again. The girl asks if we're ok, and other than that, she says nothing.
When I awoke this morning, I thought about the spiritual parallel of a cramp; a part of the body that cannot seem to move or relax and how unimaginably valuable it is to have people in your life to massage that part to bring freedom. She was there, willingly surrendered to care for something other than her own need, her dented new car, and I benefited from her expertise and her calmness.
Another lesson on my journey in serving Jesus by serving others.