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His name is Jarret   

            While riding through Peach County Georgia last weekend, I had the opportunity to meet someone that would change my life forever.  His name is Jarret and he is eight years old.  I think now at how many things occurred to ensure that I would meet up with Jarret at the precise moment and time that I did. 

            I had spent that morning at my cousin Cheryl ’s house near Marietta .  We had made a fruit salad and talked about collaborating on various projects.  I was procrastinating about leaving.  I knew I had things to do back in Jacksonville , but I was thinking about moving to Atlanta and trying to make as many contacts with as many people as I could about jobs and things like that.  I had said my final goodbyes to Cheryl and as I was leaving remarked on what a beautiful day it was.  I felt good.  The sun was shining on me and the visit to Atlanta had gone well and been productive.

            At last we were on the road to go home.  One of my closest friends, Tracy and myself were talking and eating the fruit salad we had made back at Cheryl ’s.  In my mind I was gauging how long it would take us to get back to Jacksonville .  It was about 1:00pm .  We should have been on the road.  I knew I would be cutting it close since I had to perform that night at the Abyss.  I settled back into my seat and just as I was getting comfortable noticed an accident to my right.  The dust hadn’t even settled which let me know that it had just happened.  Tracy asked, “do you want to stop.”  “Yes.”  I said without taking my eyes off of the scene that was quickly becoming chaotic.  As soon as the truck stopped I jumped out and headed to the scene of the accident.   I felt a sense of panic that even today I can not explain.  I had never stopped to assist with an accident before and I didn’t know what to expect.  Several other cars had stopped and there were plenty of people milling about.  And then I saw him.

            There was a lady carrying a little boy from the wreckage.  He was screaming and obviously in a lot of pain.  I followed her with him and as she laid him down on the ground I knelt down beside him.  He was so little.  He still had all of his baby teeth except for one front tooth that was bigger than all the rest. My heart instantly went out to him.  His left leg was twisted and his femur bone was protruding through his skin.  It was so disturbing to look at that I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it felt like.  I thought to myself, “Lord have mercy on him.”  There were three other people in the car with him.  None of them seemed to be injured; though they were visibly shaken and upset.   His aunt, who was driving, quickly became the interest of the police, who arrived shortly after we did.  While she provided them with insurance information and all of the other particulars, I focused my attention on Jarret.  Someone from the crowd gave me a wet cloth and some coldwater and I cleaned his face off.   I noticed his eye was bruising and he was going to have a pretty big black eye by the next day. Tracy began to assess his condition with the EMT First Responders who had arrived.   Another man had come up and was holding on to his legs and trying to keep him still.

            “I want my Momma,” Jarret wailed.  It was at that point that I realized how frightened he must be.  Here he was surrounded by perfect strangers, in excruciating pain, and his mother wasn’t there to comfort him.  I began to pray out loud for God to please have mercy on this little boy and to bring peace into the chaos that was surrounding him.   I placed my hand over his heart and felt how fast it was racing and I thought, “This could be my son.”  For a moment I looked up at the people that were around me.  Black, white, Hispanic, - a broad cross section of people that had also heeded the call to stop and assist in whatever way they could.   Every one of them operating and moving in the spirit.  I held Jarret’s hands as they attempted to straighten out his leg and put it in traction.  He screamed so loud it was almost too much for me to bear.  And I wished that I could take the pain away from him.  I began to think of my children.  I wondered if they were on the side of the road or anywhere in life for that matter, and needed someone to reach out to them and show them love and compassion, would it happen?  Sometimes I don’t know.  But I do know that I am glad that I got to meet Jarret.  Lately, I had been complaining about how much hell I was catching.  But at a mere eight years old his life had already been hard.  You see, I learned in the time that I spent with him that he had already broken his leg once before, and that he suffers from cerebral palsy.  But he was such a smart and strong little boy that he knew that all he had to do was call on Jesus to see him through a rough time.  His aunt kept saying to him, “look to Jesus , Jarret.”  And he understood what that meant, but more importantly, he believed in it.   It made me re-evaluate my life and put it in perspective.  Again, I found myself thinking of my own children.  Had I instilled enough in them to know that when times are hard and you think you are alone, all you have to do is have faith? 

                                                                          by Bridgette Hogan
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Bridgette is a contributing writer of Blacksonville.com