I was on my way to the office when I passed an older man working to change a flat tire. He looked to be in his sixties and drove a modest car. My first inclination was to stop and help him out. Here is a recap of my internal dialog.
I should stop. He looks like he could use a hand.
Oh, there’s no real place to stop. Oops, I just passed him. The traffic is heavy, there’s no space. Should I turn around?
Would I want someone to help me?
But I’m dressed for the office. I’ll get all sweaty and dirty if I stop.
It looks really dangerous. He’s got only 1 or 2 feet of clearance parked where he is in the middle of the road.
It’s too dangerous.
If I stop to help help this man, what will happen to me? I shook my head, and then it hit me. I was on the road to Jericho. No, I think, if I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?
He is in the middle of the road, there is traffic all around. If he slips, if a car passes too close… what would happen to him if I’m not there to help?
I wheeled around and pulled up in where he was. I stepped out of the car and asked him if he needed a hand. He didn’t really, but "Thank you," he said.
He was finishing up, but I told him I’d stand and watch for cars. I’m tall and hard to miss. I’ll make sure that the cars see you here.
Again, he thanked me. I said I wished I could have gotten there sooner to help, because this thing has happened to me many times. He tightened the lugs and stood up. I shook his hand and wished him a good day. We got into our cars and drove off.
I know I didn’t really do anything physically helpful. Would that I had arrived earlier, but I suppose, with all the cars passing by barely noticing a fellow, my presence was lifting. You’re not alone, hermano. If anything, there was someone today looking out for you on the road to Jericho.