We are all inherently weak and shallow. I don’t want to chastise myself for this, but rather accept it as a part of human nature. Yes, we are shallow, all of us. Why is it that my perspective is so often limited to my own experiences? Tonight, I’ve come face to face with my own shallow and narrow mindset.

It’s quite striking when you think about it. After a long drive to take my daughter back to school post-winter break, I found myself on another journey. This time, it was to help my eldest son settle into his new place and stock up on familiar Korean groceries. During these drives, I also cherished the time with my fourth child, a pre-teen, finding joy in our conversations.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan. I even treated myself to my favorite drink, Happy Lemon F5, a little reward I indulge in whenever I’m in the suburbs. But then, unexpectedly, I was caught in a massive traffic jam on the highway, a place usually free from congestion. Cars were at a standstill, and what should have been a mile’s journey turned into an hour-long ordeal. My legs began to cramp, my son grew restless, complaining about city life and filling the car with mysterious rap music to pass the time. I watched as the fuel gauge slowly dropped.

In the midst of this, I called my husband, who had been at home all day with our other kids, managing without a proper meal. He expressed concern over my lack of sleep and suggested I pull over for a quick nap. But there was no space to move, and every driver seemed to share my frustration. The navigation system indicated a collision ahead.

When we finally passed the accident site, the severity of the collision was shocking. One car was crushed to a third of its size, like a soda can. My son remarked that survival seemed impossible. After passing the wreckage, we, along with the other drivers, accelerated as if escaping a terrible trap. Relief washed over me as I realized I had survived the dreadful wait.

Upon returning home, I dragged myself to bed. But just before falling asleep, a thought struck me: I hadn’t felt any sympathy or empathy for those involved in the accident. If I had heard about this incident in a different setting, like church, I would have undoubtedly felt and expressed concern. But stuck in traffic, all I focused on was my frustration and the delay. What a hypocritical and pathetic realization! As I lay in my comfortable bed, I couldn’t help but think of the families of those involved in the accident, enduring a tragic night, while I was about to drift into sleep.

Reflecting on this, I’m reminded of the countless nights spent in hospital rooms and ERs, caring for my Eury. Those nights were filled with complaints to God, to people, to the world, wondering why I had to endure such sadness while the rest of the world carried on as normal, oblivious to my pain. I remember feeling resentful towards the medical team, who managed to find moments of laughter amidst the seriousness, while I was drowning in my own sorrow.

In my distress, I even found myself indirectly expressing disappointment with friends, church members, and others, feeling they were insensitive to my suffering. The world seemed so harsh, cruel, and cold.

But today, faced with a similar situation from a different perspective, I realize something crucial. As I passed the accident scene, absorbed in my own frustration about the traffic jam, I didn’t spare a thought for the driver or their family’s sorrow. How quickly we can forget the pain of others when consumed by our own inconveniences.

We are all inherently weak and shallow. I don’t want to chastise myself for this, but rather accept it as a part of human nature. Yes, we are shallow, all of us. Now, as I think about what the drivers and their families might be enduring in the hospital tonight, my earlier frustration seems so trivial. Yet, in the moment, stuck on that road, my frustration was all-encompassing, blinding me to the tragedy unfolding nearby.

Empathy is not easy. Jesus spoke of walking an extra mile with a friend who asks, which I believe is a call to empathy. To walk together means sacrificing our comfort and convenience. I regret not praying for the survivors, the drivers, and their families while I was trapped in that traffic. What if, instead of succumbing to frustration and complaint, I had offered prayers for their souls and for the first responders?

Why is it that my perspective is so often limited to my own experiences? Tonight, I’ve come face to face with my own shallow and narrow mindset.