Meeting Ryan

This morning I got an opportunity to share this with my faith community.

December 21, 2018, I met Ryan, the young man who ran the red light that killed Joshua.  It was a meeting I had asked the county solicitor about having and she was kind enough to get it arranged. I wanted to see him as a real person and look into his eyes.  All I knew of him were the smug selfies in his deputy uniform I’d seen on Facebook.

  

There were things I could have said and questions I could have asked him, but none of that seemed to matter.   I wanted him to know how important Josh was to me and the people who knew and loved him.  Somehow, I wanted to convey something meaningful. 

From the very beginning of this tragedy God has amazed me with his love and how close He has stayed by my side. From the very beginning of that Sunday, God had been right beside of me.

 No doubt Ryan had replayed July 23, 2017 over and over in his mind.  The most impactful thing I could share with him was how July 23, 2017 looked from my perspective. 

The Sunday began in its usual way.  Josh and I met at church.  He ran the sound board for the Praise and Worship service.  Afterward we met at Monterey’s Mexican restaurant for lunch.  God has gently etched that hour into my mind so clearly.  Wearing his fuchsia and navy collared shirt with his very worn cargo pants, a cap and his Chaco sandals, Josh was all smiles.  He was excited to tell me a funny story from the day before about a woman named Shelia.  I laughed so hard as he went on in detail about this mystery woman who was trying to sell him a sofa at the mall.  He had mistaken their ease of conversation and obvious chemistry for something more.  When she gave him a brochure with her name, number and a heart drawn on it, he was over the moon.  He thought destiny had just kissed him on the cheek and this would be the love of his life.  Once he had the courage to call the number and it was the sofa store, not Shelia, he realized she was trying to sell a sofa and nothing else.  He immediately launched into other conversation about his credit score and a new car he was looking at buying.  He walked me to my car, asked me if I thought his epic beard needed trimming and said he loved me.  We both went on about our day.

For some reason, instead of my usual 2 hour Sunday nap, I sat down in front of my computer and played videos of praise music, singing along like I was in a karaoke contest. The time flew by and I remember thinking I was having a good time with God.  Little did I know He was preparing my heart for the hardest evening of my life. 

The knock at the door came somewhere around 9 p.m.  It was a firm and demanding knock. The moment the door opened I saw the highway patrol officer and the coroner.  As they began talking, I remember just yelling, “Is my baby dead?” As I sat in the rocking chair on the front porch listening to their explanation of what happened, I texted my pastor, Friar,  “I need you.  Josh is dead.”  Within minutes my phone rang, and it was him.  The first thing he said was that he needed me to know that he and two other people from the Sunday night small group were at the scene of the accident and they had been praying.   I was touched.  God had placed people who knew and loved Josh at the crash.  He wasn’t alone.  I felt like God was letting me know he was there. 

Once at my home, Friar told me about the evening Josh had spent at his home enjoying the Sunday night group. Josh had just left when the accident happened.  He wanted me to know they had been talking about Jesus crying at the tomb of Lazarus.  The question posed to the small group was “Why was Jesus crying?”  After several people had answered, Josh spoke up and said that Jesus was crying because he knew that Lazarus had already been in a much better place for three days and he would be disrupting all of that to bring him back to earth.  Josh knew that eternity in heaven was far better than anything life on earth could offer.  Again, I felt like God had given me another message.  Through each step, God cleared the way to make things easier for me.  From Josh’s Life Celebration and funeral through the legal process, I have been faithfully held.

I continued to tell Ryan all the ways God held me in that moment and let me know things were going to be okay.  As I talked, tears rolled down Ryan’s face.  He listened respectfully and was nothing like the photos I had seen.  This young man was broken.  He said that he replayed that accident in his mind every evening and was struggling to move forward.  I encouraged him to not carry this burden like a ball and chain the rest of his life but to use it as a stepping stone.  I reminded him that he was young and could turn this around into something powerful and life changing.

On July 23, 2017, Ryan set out to do his job.  Ronnie set out to continue his life of crime.  Josh set out to live his life.  At the intersection of Highways 8, 88, and 81 these lives crossed paths.  I told Ryan I knew this was an unfortunate accident he didn’t intend to happen.  I forgave him for killing Josh and told him I hoped he could reframe that horrible day.   I gave him a picture that I had painted of sun flowers after a storm, standing in the sun.  I explained that I was no artist, but I wanted him to look at it and see that the sun is going to shine again, no matter how big the storm.  I shared with him that the summer Josh died there were sunflowers everywhere.  They seemed to keep being brought to my attention.  The next summer I don’t recall seeing them everywhere like I had before.  Just another smile God gave me.  Ryan would face hard things again in his life and I wanted him to look at those situations and know there was hope of the sun shinning again.  We embraced at the end of the meeting.  I remember feeling how hot his cheek was next to mine.  I needed this moment, to see this person, this real human being whose life was now going to be intertwined with mine through eternity.  I wanted to give him forgiveness for killing my son. 

His lawyer said that they had both discussed and fully expected to come to this meeting, so I could yell and cry and look for answers.  She had prepared Ryan to understand that all of this would help me find closure. Instead she was overwhelmed by something she said she had never seen in 25 years of practice. She kept referring to it as the gift I had given to Ryan.  The gift, though, was for both of us and the giver was God himself.  That is what I wanted Ryan to see.