PIcture of an empty intersection. Intersecting grace blog by lisa king author. Snakes. Humaness. Compassion, grace and working together to create the bigger picture
Life

Intersecting Grace

Looks like a regular nondescript traffic intersection, doesn’t it?
I expect for most people passing by, that’s exactly what it is.
Yet each time I catch a red light here, I’m transported back to a hot summer’s afternoon a couple of years ago.

PIcture of an empty intersection. Intersecting grace blog by lisa king author. Snakes. Humaness. Compassion, grace and working together to create the bigger picture

My adult son Dan was visiting, and we’d just got into the car with some shopping; windows down and waiting for the air con to really kick in as I rolled to a stop at the intersection.
“Oh, hell no!” he said (or words to that effect) and leapt from the car.

Hell no what? What did I miss? And why is my son running into the middle of the intersection like a lunatic? Should I be running out there too? What is going onnn??
Then it moved.

A snake had found itself marooned in a sea of hot bitumen. Dan hovered over the poor reptile and moved his arms in large circles to shoo it away from imminent death.


Was it venomous? Who knows? This is Australia, so I’m going to go with… meh, probably.

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The snake didn’t seem too enthusiastic about moving. Maybe it was already exhausted from dodging tyres and baking in the sun. But still Dan waved as best he could, and the little guy started his slow winding gait across the bitumen, speeding up as he saw the kerb and some bushes within view.

How convenient that it wound its way in my car’s direction, so Dan only needed to stride a few steps to get back into the car. Only then it seemed everyone at the intersection sighed and dropped back into ‘driving mode’.

It was an impressive moment.

Not only because my son had stopped traffic to guide an animal to safety, but because in the surrounding six lanes of waiting cars, not one had beeped or pushed their way into the intersection.
For that moment in time, a group of strangers were gracious to Dan, each other, and a creature in need of help. No one demanded their right to move because they had a green light, or complain the situation had made them wait longer than they’d expected.


In that one tiny moment, people let go of their ‘rights’, for the betterment of what was unfolding in front of them. A simple and loving display of human kindness.

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So now, each time I catch a red light here, I never groan about being held up. I remember a moment among strangers and know that all over the world these micro-moments of kindness are reminding us what it means to be human.

It’s the micro-moments that lead to the bigger moments. Let’s grow them together xo