“Hey Brian!  Give me a pump!”

I’m aging myself to admit the words came from my mouth.  Seven years old, just a skinny tow-headed scruff, I slouched along the side of the street, hoping for a ride home.

My buddy looked over as he stood on his bicycle pedals to engage the coaster brakes.  Coming to a stop beside me, he admitted he wasn’t that sure he could do it, but nonetheless agreed to let me ride on the handlebars of the little red single-speed bike.

I hopped up, and he pushed off.  We didn’t make it even a block down the road toward my house before the two-wheeler began to wobble dangerously.  I launched myself forward onto the grass beside the street as he tumbled to the ground, tangled up in his pretty little ride.

When he stood up, the right knee of his jeans was ripped, and blood dripped slowly from the scrape on his skin.  There was even a scratch or two on the bicycle.  He wasn’t happy.  

I walked home.  He went home on his less-than-pristine steed, grumbling about the pain.  And the scratches.

Somehow, I blame that event for the decline of our friendship.  There could have been other factors, but this one, I remember vividly.

I wonder sometimes if he remembers that event.  It came to my mind again as I considered something that happened earlier today.

I was walking to collect the Lovely Lady from work this afternoon when I saw the car in one of the driveways.  It was backing out, so I waited until the SUV was on the road.  The lady driving it hadn’t seen me and gave a little “so-sorry” wave as she drove away.

I heard the whomp-whomp-whomp of a flat tire as she accelerated.  She didn’t drive far, pulling into a nearby parking lot to back into a vacant spot as I approached on foot.

My daddy taught me that one never assumes people are okay, so I veered across the grass to ask if she needed help.  She told me she had no spare, but her daughter was coming to get her, and then waved me off.

Ten minutes later, as the Lovely Lady and I walked back the other way, I saw her sitting there still.  I had already checked, so was certain it was just a matter of a few minutes before she was rescued.

But (my daddy, you know), we both stopped to check on her again.

Her daughter wasn’t coming. 

“It’s complicated.”

I wondered aloud if we could go get our car (a block or so away at home) and take her where she needed to be.  She said she needed to be at work, but it was nearly 20 miles away.

Twenty miles!  I wasn’t taking her twenty miles!

She saw my reaction and told me it was okay.  She’d get there somehow.

Well??  It was twenty miles.  One way.  A forty-mile trip.

I needed lunch.  And a nap.  Needed them.

“Who is my neighbor?”

How far is far enough?  Or, too far?

Is in town the limit?  Five miles?  Ten?

Almost every time I pray these days, I ask for wisdom to see the folks God brings across my path—folks He intends for me to love with His heart, to touch with His compassion.  Those neighbors Jesus was talking about when He told us we were to love them in the same way we love ourselves. (Mark 12:30-31)

I pray the words, but when He answers with live candidates, I want the option to set limitations.

Can I say this?  The ride to and from her work was a joy.  I mean it.  Ask the Lovely Lady who rode beside me.

A joy.

We learned about how it’s complicated with her daughter.  We learned how God is answering prayer for her in other areas of her life.  We were blessed by her genuine gratitude for a simple kindness.

This world is a hard place. 

Our Creator gives us ways to make it softer.  Brighter.  More lovely.

And, to point others to Him.

I still got my nap.  And my lunch.

The nap was sweeter.  My turkey sandwich tasted better.

How far will we go for Love?

What if He wants us to go farther than that?

 

“Erecting walls around themselves, instead of bridges into the lives of others; shutting out life.”
(Joseph Fort Newton)

“The man answered, ‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind.’ And, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
‘Right!’ Jesus told him. ‘Do this and you will live!’
The man wanted to justify his actions, so he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?'”
(Luke 10:27-29, NLT)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2025. All Rights Reserved.