When People Want to Help but Just Make Things Worse
When I was fourteen years old, my family spent a week of vacation in the northwoods of Minnesota. We rode horses, sailed on the lake, sang songs around a campfire, and all the other things most teenagers tell their parents is lame. Even if they are having fun.
After this week of boring, according to me, my family loaded up into our van and began what should have been a five-hour drive home.
Except it wasn’t five hours.
Thirty minutes into the drive we were in a head-on car collision. Triaged and transported to different hospitals around the area, it …