{"id":16965,"date":"2026-02-09T17:40:14","date_gmt":"2026-02-09T17:40:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965"},"modified":"2026-02-09T17:40:14","modified_gmt":"2026-02-09T17:40:14","slug":"please-dont-let-me-die-here-how-strangers-on-motorcycles-created-an-emergency-lane-when-no-one-else-moved","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965","title":{"rendered":"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved"},"content":{"rendered":"

Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n

Traffic had stopped breathing before my son did.<\/p>\n

The bridge was locked in place under a heat advisory sky the color of a penny held over a flame. Wildfire haze flattened the horizon. Engines idled. Horns complained. Heat climbed off the asphalt in visible waves. My eleven-year-old son, Nolan, sat beside me in the back seat, tugging at his shirt collar like the fabric had turned hostile.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad\u2026 my wrist,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

A red welt was rising where he\u2019d been stung, probably by something that flew in through the cracked window when traffic first stalled. I told him we\u2019d be moving soon. I told him to drink water. I told him things fathers say when they don\u2019t yet understand what\u2019s coming.<\/p>\n

Within minutes his skin flushed in blotches across his neck and cheeks. His lips began to fade. He drew in a breath and stopped halfway, like the air had turned to glass.<\/p>\n

I climbed out of the car and helped him onto the concrete divider. Cars boxed us in on both sides. People stared through windshields. A few phones lifted. No one stepped out.<\/p>\n

I called 911. The dispatcher\u2019s voice was calm and distant. Twelve to fifteen minutes, she said. I looked at Nolan trying to inhale a world that wouldn\u2019t go in, and fifteen minutes sounded like a different lifetime.<\/p>\n

Then I heard them.<\/p>\n

At first, I thought it was more noise\u2014motorcycles approaching from somewhere behind the gridlock. Loud, unnecessary, the kind of sound you resent when you\u2019re scared. But the engines didn\u2019t pass. They slowed. They gathered. They surrounded us.<\/p>\n

A woman in a sleeveless riding vest swung off her bike and came straight toward Nolan. Gray streaks in her hair, steady eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Tessa,\u201d she said. \u201cFormer ICU nurse. What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

A tall man with a soot-dark beard joined her. \u201cName\u2019s Grant. Retired fire captain.\u201d He was already kneeling, checking Nolan\u2019s pulse.<\/p>\n

Someone else appeared with a small oxygen canister. Another rider held a jacket over Nolan to block the sun. The circle of motorcycles tightened, engines idling like a low, steady heartbeat that pushed the chaos back a few feet.<\/p>\n

Tessa spoke into my phone to the dispatcher with the clipped precision of someone who knew exactly which words mattered: \u201cPediatric allergic reaction, airway compromise, oxygen on scene, traffic gridlocked on the east bridge.\u201d<\/p>\n

Two riders began walking car to car, calmly asking drivers to edge aside. Not shouting. Not threatening. Just asking.<\/p>\n

Nolan\u2019s eyes found mine, wide and terrified.<\/p>\n

And for the first time since this started, I believed he might get enough air to make it.<\/p>\n

But the ambulance was still minutes away, and Nolan\u2019s breathing was getting worse.<\/p>\n

Would these strangers be enough to keep my son alive until help arrived?<\/p>\n

\n

Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tessa placed the oxygen mask gently over Nolan\u2019s face and spoke to him like he was the only person on the bridge.<\/p>\n

\u201cSlow breaths, buddy. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You\u2019re doing great.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grant kept one hand on Nolan\u2019s shoulder, counting his breaths under his own. I realized they were setting a rhythm for him, something steady to follow when panic tried to take over.<\/p>\n

Two riders\u2014later I learned their names were Rowan and Miles\u2014moved through traffic with surprising authority. They didn\u2019t bang on windows. They leaned in and spoke calmly to drivers. Within minutes, cars began inching sideways, tires climbing onto shoulders and medians. A thin corridor opened down the center of the bridge like a zipper parting.<\/p>\n

I heard someone ask, \u201cIsn\u2019t this illegal?\u201d Rowan replied, \u201cNot as illegal as blocking an ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n

No one argued after that.<\/p>\n

Tessa handed my phone back to me. \u201cStay with him. Talk to him. Keep him upright.\u201d<\/p>\n

I realized my hands had been shaking so badly I could barely hold Nolan. I forced my voice to be steady. I told him about the dog waiting at home. I told him about the baseball game we were supposed to watch that night. I told him ordinary things because ordinary things suddenly felt like promises.<\/p>\n

Sirens, faint at first, began to cut through the air.<\/p>\n

When the ambulance finally appeared at the mouth of the bridge, it didn\u2019t slow. It flew through the lane the riders had carved out of nothing. EMTs jumped out already moving. They took one look at the oxygen setup, the way Nolan was positioned, the information Tessa rattled off, and one of them nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou bought him time,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

They loaded Nolan onto the stretcher. Color was returning to his lips in slow, hesitant shades. As they rolled him toward the ambulance, I turned to thank the riders, but words felt too small.<\/p>\n

Grant clapped my shoulder once. \u201cGo. We\u2019ll clear the rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

The ride to the hospital took nine minutes. I counted each one.<\/p>\n

In the ER, Nolan stabilized quickly. Medication, monitoring, oxygen. The doctor said the early support had made the difference. Without it, the airway swelling could have closed completely before they reached us.<\/p>\n

I sat beside Nolan\u2019s bed and replayed the bridge over and over. The heat. The horns. The phones. And the circle of motorcycles that had turned into a shield.<\/p>\n

An hour later, when I stepped outside for air, they were there.<\/p>\n

Not all of them. Just a handful. Helmets off. Quiet. No cameras. No introductions. Tessa handed me a small card with signs of allergic reactions and what to say to a dispatcher.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe do this sometimes,\u201d she said. \u201cWe call ourselves overpass guardians. No club. No patches. Just\u2026 if we\u2019re nearby and see trouble, we stop.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

She shrugged. \u201cBecause once, nobody stopped for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later she told me about her daughter\u2019s asthma attack years ago, traffic just like this, and how long help took to arrive. She\u2019d promised herself she would never sit still in a moment like that again.<\/p>\n

Nolan stayed overnight for observation. When he was discharged the next afternoon, I expected the world to have moved on.<\/p>\n

Instead, the riders were waiting at the edge of the hospital parking lot, engines off, just nodding as we passed.<\/p>\n

A week later, they invited us back to the bridge.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know then that what happened that day wouldn\u2019t end with Nolan\u2019s recovery\u2014it would change what he wanted to become.<\/p>\n

\n

Part 3<\/strong><\/p>\n

The haze had cleared by the time we returned to the bridge the following Saturday. The sky was blue again, innocent as if nothing had happened there.<\/p>\n

About twenty riders stood along the pedestrian walkway with folding tables. No banners. No logos. Just stacks of printed cards explaining allergic reaction signs, how to speak to a dispatcher, and how to guide traffic safely in an emergency without creating chaos. A small donation box sat at the end for neighborhood first aid kits.<\/p>\n

Families from nearby apartments wandered over. A few cyclists stopped. People asked questions. Tessa answered every one patiently. Grant demonstrated how to signal cars to move aside without panic. Rowan talked about tone of voice. Miles showed kids how to keep someone upright and calm.<\/p>\n

Phones stayed mostly in pockets.<\/p>\n

Nolan listened to everything like it was a new language he wanted to master.<\/p>\n

At one point, Tessa handed him a simple fabric wristband. \u201cOfficial passenger,\u201d she said with a wink. \u201cMeans you watch. You notice. You help when you can.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the drive home, Nolan was quiet for a long time.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to learn how to do that,\u201d he finally said.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMake space when people can\u2019t breathe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tessa had mentioned a local group that met weekly in an empty parking lot to practice emergency response basics\u2014directing cars, talking to dispatchers, staying calm under pressure. The next Wednesday, Nolan and I went.<\/p>\n

They practiced like it was a sport. Calm voices. Clear gestures. No shouting. No ego. Just repetition until helping looked almost ordinary.<\/p>\n

Watching them, I realized something uncomfortable. On the bridge, dozens of people had recorded my son struggling to breathe. Only a few had stepped forward. Not because the others were bad people. Because they were unsure. Afraid of doing the wrong thing. Afraid of cost. Afraid of liability. Afraid of stepping out of their lane.<\/p>\n

These riders weren\u2019t fearless. They had just practiced moving toward the problem instead of away from it.<\/p>\n

Weeks passed. Nolan recovered fully. The welt on his wrist faded to nothing. He laughed again. Slept deeply again. But he wore that wristband every day as a reminder.<\/p>\n

I wrote everything down one night at the kitchen table so I would never forget the details\u2014the color of the sky, the sound of engines, the way strangers\u2019 hands created shade over my son\u2019s face. I didn\u2019t write names. I didn\u2019t write blame. I wrote about courage that arrives without announcement.<\/p>\n

I used to hear motorcycles and think noise.<\/p>\n

Now I hear them and think of breath returning to my son\u2019s lungs.<\/p>\n

People talk about miracles like they come from nowhere. What I saw on that bridge was different. It was ordinary people deciding not to stay inside their cars when someone needed air.<\/p>\n

Nolan still asks questions at dinner about how to help in emergencies. He talks about becoming the kind of person who steps out.<\/p>\n

And sometimes, when traffic slows and engines rumble nearby, I feel something close to gratitude instead of annoyance.<\/p>\n

Because I know what that sound can mean.<\/p>\n

If this story moves you, put one hand down from your phone today and use the other to help someone breathe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1 Traffic had stopped breathing before my son did. The bridge was locked in place under a heat advisory sky the color of a penny held over a flame. Wildfire haze flattened the horizon. Engines idled. Horns complained. Heat climbed off the asphalt in visible waves. My eleven-year-old son, Nolan, sat beside me in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":16966,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16965","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\n\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 Traffic had stopped breathing before my son did. The bridge was locked in place under a heat advisory sky the color of a penny held over a flame. Wildfire haze flattened the horizon. Engines idled. Horns complained. Heat climbed off the asphalt in visible waves. My eleven-year-old son, Nolan, sat beside me in […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-02-09T17:40:14+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"purpose true\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"purpose true\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"8 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965\",\"name\":\"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-02-09T17:40:14+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/8783f12fcf24b2f3203d550722d57e0a\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/8783f12fcf24b2f3203d550722d57e0a\",\"name\":\"purpose true\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/311b99b03b9df64c75e9364ec478f537fdeab67bf8add124c69fac49517fcec6?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/311b99b03b9df64c75e9364ec478f537fdeab67bf8add124c69fac49517fcec6?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"purpose true\"},\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=4\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 Traffic had stopped breathing before my son did. The bridge was locked in place under a heat advisory sky the color of a penny held over a flame. Wildfire haze flattened the horizon. Engines idled. Horns complained. Heat climbed off the asphalt in visible waves. My eleven-year-old son, Nolan, sat beside me in […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-02-09T17:40:14+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"purpose true","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"purpose true","Est. reading time":"8 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965","name":"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg","datePublished":"2026-02-09T17:40:14+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/8783f12fcf24b2f3203d550722d57e0a"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/hf_20260209_173420_f229fee6-dae1-478f-9091-6b384bbc5160.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=16965#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"\u201cPlease Don\u2019t Let Me Die Here\u201d \u2014 How Strangers on Motorcycles Created an Emergency Lane When No One Else Moved"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/8783f12fcf24b2f3203d550722d57e0a","name":"purpose true","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/311b99b03b9df64c75e9364ec478f537fdeab67bf8add124c69fac49517fcec6?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/311b99b03b9df64c75e9364ec478f537fdeab67bf8add124c69fac49517fcec6?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"purpose true"},"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=4"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16965","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=16965"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16965\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16967,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16965\/revisions\/16967"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/16966"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=16965"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=16965"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=16965"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}