Dear Neighbor,

On Wednesday, October 2, the day that changed both of our lives forever, I was only going to stop for gas. I'd been to Sam's a hundred times. When I got to the intersection, I saw you still had some distance to go.  I turned left, and that was when we met.

I was never unconscious.  I remember your black SUV hitting me. I remember flying off my bike and landing on the ground like a crumpled bird with my legs splayed, the claustrophobia of my helmet choking me. I remember wondering why you did not immediately come to me, assuring me that help was on the way.

In those moments, I could have told you to call my husband. That I have two wonderful kids. That I love Jesus.

Do you love Jesus?  One of the greatest mysteries of the Christian faith is that a person who loves Jesus can make a terrible mistake and still be forgiven.

I can't say I forgive you because I have not met you, my Neighbor. I have not looked you in the eyes. We have not shared our stories though we are now bound by the weight of an accident that will live in our memories, our dreams, and our nightmares forever. But I can say, I'm concerned for you. There were two hard roads before you, and you chose the one that leads to a dead end.

You will remember me every time you see a motorcycle on the road.

I will remember you every time I come to a four way stop.

You will remember me whenever you are near Sam's Club because now you will avoid the intersection where we met.  Do you live nearby?  That will be a pain, especially if you have a Sam’s membership.

I will remember you only sometimes when I look down at my severed limb. You do not own any real estate in my head. You rent a small corner of my head but I own a large permanent property in yours.

If you hadn't left that morning, I could have told you that we'd get through this. I would have let you hold my hand. I'm not lying. In that moment, being so alone and in pain on the asphalt, my leg burning like a Mother Trucker (see I’m a Good Christian girl with no potty mouth), I only wanted another person to be there for me. Anyone. Even you.

But you ran.  Before you did, you got out and looked at me. What did you see?  Did you see blood?  My shattered leg bones?  I heard later that parts of my leg were spattered across the road. Did you wonder if you had killed me?

Neighbor, I never saw my leg. After you left, a woman came and put her jacket over me.  She told me not to look. I never saw it even before the surgeon severed it from my body.

You ran. You got back in your black SUV, now with front end damage and ran.  

We are both runners, my Neighbor. I was a runner before the accident, and I will be a runner again once I get my blade.

Did you immediately get a car wash?  Did you ask a buddy to fix the headlights damaged in the accident, telling him that you accidentally ran into a parking barrier instead of human flesh?  Maybe by now there is no visible trace of our meeting...at least on your vehicle.

Neighbor, you can run from facing human consequences. The police may never find you.  But whether you know Jesus or not, he's a finder of people. There are consequences from escaping human judgment. Have you started to feel them?

That morning when you ran, you buried me deeply inside of you.  My severed leg is festering in your heart and mind. If you don't root it out, it may destroy the rest of your life.  You will carry my rotting weight with you everywhere.

My severed leg is no longer a part of me. Its mangled form will not hold me down. I will complete the work God has set before me. I will run like the wind. Free. But you will remain pinned by my leg. The weight of this type of secret must be crushing you.

Do you have a wife?  Do you have children?  Did you tell them that you hit someone at Sam's Club on the way to work?

I had hoped you would come forward but now over a week from when we met, I know you chose to bury my leg. To carry it inside of you like a festering bloody seed. Do you know what you have planted?  A poisonous vine that will creep over your life and choke your joy.

One night after a nightmare, lying next to your wife, you will choke out the story of what you hit with the car that morning. Your relationship with your wife will never be the same because now she too will be forced to carry the weight of my severed leg.

You will see your children and know you are a father with a despicable secret that will crush your family if revealed. Who wants to be the child of a convicted felon?  The Maple Grove soccer moms will spread your shame, and your children will feel the shrapnel of our meeting penetrate their skin.

Neighbor, I know it would not have been easy for us to meet that day.

But I have to tell you something funny. I work for a church, and my title is the Director of Operations and Neighboring. My mission in life is to help myself and others understand how to be a good neighbor. I have my work cut out with you.

Neighbor, do you know the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25-37?  That day we met, you were the priest. You were the levite.  Can you ever muster the courage to be the Samaritan?  It’s not too late.“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27).  Do you love yourself?  Maybe that is part of the problem.

Someday if we do meet, after you face me and my family and you feel the true weight of what you have done, I will reach inside of you and pull at the root of my festering leg. I will grab it by its bloody toe and help you start digging it out.  I will tell you that I have gotten up off the asphalt, off the operating table. I will let you see my grit, how I will be stronger after I recover. I will not let this accident hold me back from my life calling as a wife, mother, friend, and neighbor.

Yours Truly,

The Woman You Hit and Left on October 2, 2025 at the Sam’s Club Intersection.  If we do meet, only then will I share my name.  It will be our beginning.