No one is saying accidents don't happen; like yourself, as a pedestrian, I was struck by a car; the accident broke my neck, limbs, and scarred my face irreparably. The young man who hit me was looking at a girl. Accidents happen; clearly this man was responsible for wrecking my physical body as he did, no one argues that point. (And just for the record, he didn't have insurance!) But, if he is to blame for what happened that day -- in the sense of harboring resentment or anger toward him for his reckless driving -- then who am I to thank for the innumerable, invaluable lessons I learned through my convalescence, and all the years thereafter?

When we blame life -- or others -- in that moment we not only separate ourselves from being able to see what is authentically good about our grief, what we have been given for our loss, but we also drive a wedge into our own mind in the mistaken belief that whatever bitterness we feel toward the one who harmed us somehow helps us (or changes anything).

It is impossible to hold an enemy in our heart and know, at the same time, the love that gives the heart its wholeness, it's comfort and compassion.