White Face

Today I am headed for the Charity Care office to try and get a handle on where the bills all are in the cue. I have long since met my $6000 cap for the year in what has been submitted to the insurance company. But I have not paid out the full amount as of yet. I can't seem to figure out what has been processed and what is still in the pipeline. It's just easier to ask the experts and let them figure it out.


I park in the garage, a tricky proposition since several floors are under construction. As I head into the lobby and towards the hall where the financial and chaplaincy offices are housed (I wonder why they put those two services in the same area?), I see several Amish people gathered about the bathroom doors. A young man in full beard and broad brimmed hat is standing close to a woman in long dress and gauzy hair cap. She is bent over and leaning against the wall.


Her face is white as a sheet and her eyes are filled with distress though her face shows no emotion. The young man hovers, concerned. I stand still a minute, hating to pass and disrupt their situation. I am fearful that she will pass out and fall to the floor. He extends his arm, steadying her while she rights herself and takes a deep breath. The continue to stand there, but seem OK so I pass by, saying a quick prayer for her.


While I wait to speak to someone in the office, another man enters. He is overweight and huffing with the effort of walking. Sweat pours down his brow and he mops it with a handkerchief, plopping down on a couch. "Just saw some of them Aimish," he grunts. "Crying shame about that accident. They say 7 or 8 of 'em died. They brought the rest here."


I am shocked. I have not heard about any accident, and I inquire as to the nature of the incident. Turns out some drunk driver passed a tanker truck and hit a pickup truck headon, causing the tanker to flip and land on a 15 passenger van of Amish farmers touring farms in the area. At least that is his version of the incident. (For the news story and more correct version, see here).


I think of the poor woman in the hall. She has lost friends, maybe family. Perhaps she was injured herself. I feel badly for her and take up praying in earnest. At very least, the horribleness of the accident will replay in her head for awhile if she was in the van. I am sorry for her pain, even if she is just here to visit the wounded.


At the same time, I am once again reminded of how blessed I am and the importance of reaching out to others in need. I will see what is being done to help and do what I can do. Life is so unpredictable. One minute you are filled with joy and hope and doing well. Then in an instant, it can all change. Its head shaking.