Not too long ago, something happened to me that changed my entire outlook on life. I do not make this comment lightly, nor do I discount its profound effect on me. Putting my personal thoughts on existence and death, heaven and hell, and coincidence and fate aside, I believe my hair-raising experience has enlightened my mind and fortified my soul.
My story does not involve a darkened night filled with foreboding omens and fearsome hitchhikers lurking around darkened gas stations. My narrative has three characters and one main theme, which is all. No more and no less. But it is a harrowing tale of a surprise twist of fate that has fortified my soul's purpose and clouded my dreams forever.
I do not take many risks with my life. I have no desire to parachute out of a perfectly good airplane, go deep sea diving for sunken treasure, or shoot to the moon in a spacecraft. I like earthly pursuits that involve the ground and me. It is not as though I am chocked full of phobias…I am not a coward, a wimp, or easily shaken. I hunt ghosts in old cemeteries in the dead of night, for God's sake (pun intended). Let me assure you, I have been in some real prickly situations and witnessed horrifying events and supernatural phenomenon, but I have never encountered such soul-gripping terror as I did on that bright and sunny day in late September.
As with many people, the solemn threat of being involved in a fatal car accident haunts me now and then, especially when traveling alone at night or to an unfamiliar town. The fear is always there, sitting in the shadows of a darkened mind, just waiting to be unleashed.
We all know that any fear must be pushed back and swallowed; we understand it's existence and it's reason for being. We know that an occasional scare is good for the heart and gets the adrenaline pumping furiously through our pulsing veins; in fact, sometimes we even cough up ten hard-earned bucks to have the beejeezus startled out of us at the movie theater. After all, it is this fear that extreme sports enthusiasts and Fear Factor contestants live for. What we may not know, is that fear, in it's purest and most potent form, can save our lives by stopping us from engaging in dim-witted activities and getting ourselves killed.
Nevertheless, driving a motor vehicle is an everyday fact of life. Taking the family grocery getter across town to shop is rarely considered a high-risk activity. Rarely do any of us think that such a mundane action could result in a spiritually altering event. Alas, this day was my turn to run the gamut of fate.
I was making a typical interstate drive across town to an outlet mall. It was a spectacularly glorious day. No clouds were in the sky; a rich palette of blues painted the heavens for as far as the eye could see. Sweet confederate jasmine lightly drifted through the air and mixed with the bitter scent of salt water from the ocean. The delicate waves of breezy warmth enveloped me, forcing me to breathe deeply and soak up the fragrant aromas just for the sheer pleasure of feeling alive. I remember thinking, "what a good day to die," not appreciating the potential prophecy of the words.
Traffic was a nightmare. One moment the flow was relatively smooth and the next congested and erratic. Mindless SUV drivers darted between lanes and tailgated smaller, slower sedans, honking horns and flagging birds. Oblivious women applied eyeliner in rear view mirrors while simultaneously squawking on cell phones. Businessmen read newspapers and poked at Blackberries propped on steering wheels. Filthy faced children in seat restraints screamed their heads off and threw Cheerios. Like most big city rush hour traffic, it was a real traveling circus.
I was stuck behind the slowest car on the highway. Cars streamed passed me while semi tractor-trailers stalked my rear bumper. After a short while I resigned myself to creeping along, not paying much attention to the speeders whizzing past in the left lane at breakneck speeds. Finally I managed to make my way into the passing lane and began traveling along at a pretty good clip. Just then, in my peripheral vision, I saw the flash of a small black sports car speeding past my truck in the right lane. He appeared to be traveling at over 90 mph. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into a sea of traffic ahead. I commented on his driving under my breath and assigned him the laughable moniker "organ donor" and went back to thinking about nonsensical issues of the day.
Just then, traffic abruptly slowed to around 65 mph. There, to my right, was Mr. Speedy Black Car Man. I could do nothing but bide my time and stay where I was…there was simply no room on the road for me to move over. I couldn't slow down or speed up; I once again trapped.
Some kind of weird energy engulfed the truck. The CD finished its final tune and stopped playing. The only noise echoing within the vehicle was the click-click sound of the CD popping out of the player. After a quick few seconds, a soft voice resonated in my brain. At first, I couldn't make out what I thought I was hearing. I immediately began thinking about my husband, my family, my friends and my pets. Information and memories flooded into my mind like a flash of water hits the shore break, cracking the sand with a loud thud. Then something told me that everything would be okay. I didn't hear it so much in words, but in thoughts: primal, urging, basic. Flashes of light and knowledge sped past my mind's eye so quickly and effortlessly that I barely registered the thoughts coming and going. I was concentrating on the flow of traffic instead of ignoring it. In fact, everything else in my immediate environment faded away to nothingness as I rigorously focused on the task at hand. I felt more alert than I ever had. I could feel the blood pumping through my body and rushing to my face. But I had no reason to feel like a cat in a fight or flight situation. It made no sense. Until…
Mr. Speedy Black Car Man was making his move…directly into my lane. As his driver's door moved outrageously close to my passenger's side door, my mind was racing a mile a minute. His car wobbled ever so slightly, momentarily taking my breath away. I eked out a quiet, "Oh Jesus" as both of my hands instinctively grabbed the steering wheel. As I briefly glanced back over, I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear view mirror. My pallor was reminiscent of a ghosts' and I was began quietly shivering with every turn of the truck's wheel. I could feel my panicked breaths and hear the rapid beat of my heart. As hot blood rushed to my face I began to panic. I muttered broken phrases under my breath and visualized making the sign of the cross. All of this took a handful of seconds to transpire. I knew I had to do something.
With a sharp and blatant twist of wheel, Mr. Speedy Black Car Man took my lane. Before I could utter a word or complete a thought, I took the truck into the median. I hit that mound of weeds and dirt at over 70mph. I knew I couldn't hit the brakes or the gas. I knew I could not try to reenter the highway. I knew she would flip if I made even the slightest error in judgment. I knew I had to keep her steady and traveling as straight as possible. I knew I couldn't let go of her for fear of crossing the median and hitting head on with traffic traveling the other way. She was kicking up enormous amounts of dirt, grass and rocks. The thump, thump, thump of chunks of asphalt hitting the sides and windshield were like an ominous mantra of death. I remember saying, in an extraordinarily hushed and relaxed manner, "Oh My God," "Oh My God" over and over like a scratched record. My arm muscles were already aching. Because of my death grip on the steering wheel, my hands cramped up and started to grow cold. Prickly pain besieged my joints but I knew I could not loose control. I thought the truck was going to shake the fillings out of my teeth. It seemed as though I was in that median forever.
After many, many yards, the truck finally came to a stop. With my foot clamped hard on the brake, I looked at my twisted, red face in the mirror and broke down into tears. All of the traffic on the highway had slowed to a turtles pace to avoid being hit by an 8000 pound truck. Hot salty tears rushed down my cheeks and into my gaping mouth. True fear did not hit me full on until I was stopped; and when it came, it came in a flood of pain. Thankfully I was alive and breathing.
I found the first greasy spoon restaurant off the interstate. Alone, I sat at an uncomfortable table with a torn vinyl bench and mulled over my harrowing experience. I couldn't help feeling that God's hand was in my survival and maybe the strange energy I felt was a spirit or angel or something else otherworldly. Because of the strength of mind and body given by God, I survived. No one on this Earth could ever convince me otherwise. I lived through an "accident" that many people never survive. I was given another chance at life. A part of me was born that day, and a small part of me died. I will never forget the feelings and the thoughts of that day. In those small seconds, my life could have ended. But it wasn't.
This is exactly why I believe I was spared that day…I have not achieved what I was born to do yet. This experience taught me that not only is life fragile and precious, but I should never pass up an opportunity to smell the soft breeze, gaze at the azure blue sky and revel in fact we are alive, and beautiful, and free. Life looks more grand and noble than ever before…and I appreciate being allowed to learn that lesson.
My story does not involve a darkened night filled with foreboding omens and fearsome hitchhikers lurking around darkened gas stations. My narrative has three characters and one main theme, which is all. No more and no less. But it is a harrowing tale of a surprise twist of fate that has fortified my soul's purpose and clouded my dreams forever.
I do not take many risks with my life. I have no desire to parachute out of a perfectly good airplane, go deep sea diving for sunken treasure, or shoot to the moon in a spacecraft. I like earthly pursuits that involve the ground and me. It is not as though I am chocked full of phobias…I am not a coward, a wimp, or easily shaken. I hunt ghosts in old cemeteries in the dead of night, for God's sake (pun intended). Let me assure you, I have been in some real prickly situations and witnessed horrifying events and supernatural phenomenon, but I have never encountered such soul-gripping terror as I did on that bright and sunny day in late September.
As with many people, the solemn threat of being involved in a fatal car accident haunts me now and then, especially when traveling alone at night or to an unfamiliar town. The fear is always there, sitting in the shadows of a darkened mind, just waiting to be unleashed.
We all know that any fear must be pushed back and swallowed; we understand it's existence and it's reason for being. We know that an occasional scare is good for the heart and gets the adrenaline pumping furiously through our pulsing veins; in fact, sometimes we even cough up ten hard-earned bucks to have the beejeezus startled out of us at the movie theater. After all, it is this fear that extreme sports enthusiasts and Fear Factor contestants live for. What we may not know, is that fear, in it's purest and most potent form, can save our lives by stopping us from engaging in dim-witted activities and getting ourselves killed.
Nevertheless, driving a motor vehicle is an everyday fact of life. Taking the family grocery getter across town to shop is rarely considered a high-risk activity. Rarely do any of us think that such a mundane action could result in a spiritually altering event. Alas, this day was my turn to run the gamut of fate.
I was making a typical interstate drive across town to an outlet mall. It was a spectacularly glorious day. No clouds were in the sky; a rich palette of blues painted the heavens for as far as the eye could see. Sweet confederate jasmine lightly drifted through the air and mixed with the bitter scent of salt water from the ocean. The delicate waves of breezy warmth enveloped me, forcing me to breathe deeply and soak up the fragrant aromas just for the sheer pleasure of feeling alive. I remember thinking, "what a good day to die," not appreciating the potential prophecy of the words.
Traffic was a nightmare. One moment the flow was relatively smooth and the next congested and erratic. Mindless SUV drivers darted between lanes and tailgated smaller, slower sedans, honking horns and flagging birds. Oblivious women applied eyeliner in rear view mirrors while simultaneously squawking on cell phones. Businessmen read newspapers and poked at Blackberries propped on steering wheels. Filthy faced children in seat restraints screamed their heads off and threw Cheerios. Like most big city rush hour traffic, it was a real traveling circus.
I was stuck behind the slowest car on the highway. Cars streamed passed me while semi tractor-trailers stalked my rear bumper. After a short while I resigned myself to creeping along, not paying much attention to the speeders whizzing past in the left lane at breakneck speeds. Finally I managed to make my way into the passing lane and began traveling along at a pretty good clip. Just then, in my peripheral vision, I saw the flash of a small black sports car speeding past my truck in the right lane. He appeared to be traveling at over 90 mph. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into a sea of traffic ahead. I commented on his driving under my breath and assigned him the laughable moniker "organ donor" and went back to thinking about nonsensical issues of the day.
Just then, traffic abruptly slowed to around 65 mph. There, to my right, was Mr. Speedy Black Car Man. I could do nothing but bide my time and stay where I was…there was simply no room on the road for me to move over. I couldn't slow down or speed up; I once again trapped.
Some kind of weird energy engulfed the truck. The CD finished its final tune and stopped playing. The only noise echoing within the vehicle was the click-click sound of the CD popping out of the player. After a quick few seconds, a soft voice resonated in my brain. At first, I couldn't make out what I thought I was hearing. I immediately began thinking about my husband, my family, my friends and my pets. Information and memories flooded into my mind like a flash of water hits the shore break, cracking the sand with a loud thud. Then something told me that everything would be okay. I didn't hear it so much in words, but in thoughts: primal, urging, basic. Flashes of light and knowledge sped past my mind's eye so quickly and effortlessly that I barely registered the thoughts coming and going. I was concentrating on the flow of traffic instead of ignoring it. In fact, everything else in my immediate environment faded away to nothingness as I rigorously focused on the task at hand. I felt more alert than I ever had. I could feel the blood pumping through my body and rushing to my face. But I had no reason to feel like a cat in a fight or flight situation. It made no sense. Until…
Mr. Speedy Black Car Man was making his move…directly into my lane. As his driver's door moved outrageously close to my passenger's side door, my mind was racing a mile a minute. His car wobbled ever so slightly, momentarily taking my breath away. I eked out a quiet, "Oh Jesus" as both of my hands instinctively grabbed the steering wheel. As I briefly glanced back over, I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear view mirror. My pallor was reminiscent of a ghosts' and I was began quietly shivering with every turn of the truck's wheel. I could feel my panicked breaths and hear the rapid beat of my heart. As hot blood rushed to my face I began to panic. I muttered broken phrases under my breath and visualized making the sign of the cross. All of this took a handful of seconds to transpire. I knew I had to do something.
With a sharp and blatant twist of wheel, Mr. Speedy Black Car Man took my lane. Before I could utter a word or complete a thought, I took the truck into the median. I hit that mound of weeds and dirt at over 70mph. I knew I couldn't hit the brakes or the gas. I knew I could not try to reenter the highway. I knew she would flip if I made even the slightest error in judgment. I knew I had to keep her steady and traveling as straight as possible. I knew I couldn't let go of her for fear of crossing the median and hitting head on with traffic traveling the other way. She was kicking up enormous amounts of dirt, grass and rocks. The thump, thump, thump of chunks of asphalt hitting the sides and windshield were like an ominous mantra of death. I remember saying, in an extraordinarily hushed and relaxed manner, "Oh My God," "Oh My God" over and over like a scratched record. My arm muscles were already aching. Because of my death grip on the steering wheel, my hands cramped up and started to grow cold. Prickly pain besieged my joints but I knew I could not loose control. I thought the truck was going to shake the fillings out of my teeth. It seemed as though I was in that median forever.
After many, many yards, the truck finally came to a stop. With my foot clamped hard on the brake, I looked at my twisted, red face in the mirror and broke down into tears. All of the traffic on the highway had slowed to a turtles pace to avoid being hit by an 8000 pound truck. Hot salty tears rushed down my cheeks and into my gaping mouth. True fear did not hit me full on until I was stopped; and when it came, it came in a flood of pain. Thankfully I was alive and breathing.
I found the first greasy spoon restaurant off the interstate. Alone, I sat at an uncomfortable table with a torn vinyl bench and mulled over my harrowing experience. I couldn't help feeling that God's hand was in my survival and maybe the strange energy I felt was a spirit or angel or something else otherworldly. Because of the strength of mind and body given by God, I survived. No one on this Earth could ever convince me otherwise. I lived through an "accident" that many people never survive. I was given another chance at life. A part of me was born that day, and a small part of me died. I will never forget the feelings and the thoughts of that day. In those small seconds, my life could have ended. But it wasn't.
This is exactly why I believe I was spared that day…I have not achieved what I was born to do yet. This experience taught me that not only is life fragile and precious, but I should never pass up an opportunity to smell the soft breeze, gaze at the azure blue sky and revel in fact we are alive, and beautiful, and free. Life looks more grand and noble than ever before…and I appreciate being allowed to learn that lesson.
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