Three weeks ago, if you had asked me about my life, I would have said it was average; boring even. If you had inquired after me personally, I would have smiled and said, "Good!". But inside, I would be thinking of my growing discontentment in circumstances, restlessness with life's slow pace, and frustration that the Lord was not directing me.
Those thoughts were me. That's who I was three weeks ago...
You know that phrase, "life changes in the blink of an eye"? Do you believe that? With our great God, you should. You never know what each passing moment might bring. Like a heavy rain storm at 9pm, with sheets of water pouring down on the roads faster than it can drain off.
And then the next moment, you're running the thirty feet to your car, soaked to the bone by the time you reach it.
Another moment comes; the car tires make contact with a mini stream, and you look up from the passenger seat to see the world swerving this way and that, as a grip on the concrete is desperately trying to be reestablished.
You know that phrase, "life changes in the blink of an eye"? Do you believe that? With our great God, you should. You never know what each passing moment might bring. Like a heavy rain storm at 9pm, with sheets of water pouring down on the roads faster than it can drain off.
And then the next moment, you're running the thirty feet to your car, soaked to the bone by the time you reach it.
Another moment comes; the car tires make contact with a mini stream, and you look up from the passenger seat to see the world swerving this way and that, as a grip on the concrete is desperately trying to be reestablished.
Moments tick by slower now, the car's sideways motion down the steep 20 foot ditch brings the dark shapes of a forrest ever closer. Not a forrest, a tree; the only tree that matters. One tree, growing bigger and bigger, beginning to fill your window.
The next moment, the inside of your eyelids are all you see as you squeeze your eyes shut. Realization that, the next time you opened them, it will either be to see your Maker, or else a hospital ceiling, dawns on you.
The next moment, the inside of your eyelids are all you see as you squeeze your eyes shut. Realization that, the next time you opened them, it will either be to see your Maker, or else a hospital ceiling, dawns on you.
Tick, tock. Car meets tree, and you meet car. Your body is ripped from you, whilst simultaneously being viciously shoved right back where it belongs. Then you realize, you have neither died nor been incapacitated. This moment, it seems to be the longest of all, instead of merely moving slowly, time has stopped entirely. Other than your assessment of mental stability, there is no sensation. Your extremities feel numb, unimportant, and unresponsive. Your mind is working in overtime now. Your first thought is one of relief. The fact that no other car or person was impacted over the last 45 seconds of terror is not lost on you. You feel immense joy, enough so to bring tears to your eyes, but none come. Your next thought. You didn't die. Though there is pain beginning to creep in, you're alive enough to feel it, and this thought is precious. When you have a moment of doubt that your existence will endure, then the reality of life means more to you than the prospect of a hundred Christmas mornings, or every dream imaginable coming true. Again, an expectation of tears, though your eyes remain dry.
Your moment in the endless abyss of "what if's" is ended by a voice, someone is speaking to you. Your mind has to concentrate to make sense of the words. AM I ok? I just thought I was going to die! No, I'm not ok!
"Yes, I'm fine" you manage to mumble. The voice again; something about pain, or hurt? For the first time, you take notice of your own body. Every muscle in every part of you is tight as iron, from clenched jaw, down to the rolled toes in your shoes. Your heart is still beating in your ears as if every pump is it's last. You will your hands, fingers in fists, to relax. That dull pain is increasing now, originating from the side of your head that hit the door frame. The shattered glass from the window is everywhere, shards stuck in your face, gritted in your teeth, laced under every hair on your head, down your shirt, poking your chest and abdomen, even a piece in your eye, becoming more and more irritated with each blink.
"Yes, I'm fine" you manage to mumble. The voice again; something about pain, or hurt? For the first time, you take notice of your own body. Every muscle in every part of you is tight as iron, from clenched jaw, down to the rolled toes in your shoes. Your heart is still beating in your ears as if every pump is it's last. You will your hands, fingers in fists, to relax. That dull pain is increasing now, originating from the side of your head that hit the door frame. The shattered glass from the window is everywhere, shards stuck in your face, gritted in your teeth, laced under every hair on your head, down your shirt, poking your chest and abdomen, even a piece in your eye, becoming more and more irritated with each blink.
Every movement brings a sharp reminder of more glass. But your head! The throbbing is making it hard for you to think. You chin starts trembling, and soon the rest of your body follows. Was it cold? A little. Of all the sensations in your body, temperature discomfort seems like a superfluous one at the moment.
The voice again inquires after injury. "No, I'm...fine. Are YOU hurt?" the words don't seem your own, and everything is surreal. Confirmation of health is given, and that's that. Now, there is only pain. And life. Nothing else. Everything else is just too much work, too much to take in.
A sharp voice brings you out of your mental nothingness. "Drinking? No, ma'am. No, we were NOT drinking... Police? Ok, we'll wait here." Like you are going to do anything else.
The voice beside you starts speaking again, but this time, not to you. Something about picking us up? Only person you want to see right now is your momma. You never said goodbye to her before you left the house today... And your little sisters, your last words to them were in annoyance because they always wait until you're walking out the door before demanding hugs and kisses, inevitably making you late. Now, you would give anything for one of their hugs.
A sharp voice brings you out of your mental nothingness. "Drinking? No, ma'am. No, we were NOT drinking... Police? Ok, we'll wait here." Like you are going to do anything else.
The voice beside you starts speaking again, but this time, not to you. Something about picking us up? Only person you want to see right now is your momma. You never said goodbye to her before you left the house today... And your little sisters, your last words to them were in annoyance because they always wait until you're walking out the door before demanding hugs and kisses, inevitably making you late. Now, you would give anything for one of their hugs.
A sense of claustrophobia starts to creep in. The car wrapping the tree had snapped your seat in half, and you are hardly sitting on anything now, except glass. Your fitness fanatic friend would be proud of the length of time you've sat Roman Chair, but your muscles are so overworked, there is hardly a sensation of soreness. You have to get out. NOW. The broken widow has been letting in gusts of rain and cold air, intensifying your shivers. Whether they began from the wet, cold, or adrenalin is unknown, what you do know is you are cold now. Freezing, actually.
"Sitting on glass...Have to...move." you mumble, without any of the urgency that is in your mind. Somehow, the ability to communicate with anything other than a monotone is lost to you. But you have to get OUT! Whether it is through the broken widow or over the driver, you are getting out of that seat, out of the bath of glass you've been sitting in, and away from the tree of death(or was it life?) that is still staring you in the face.
A prompt shuffling of seats, and now you're sitting at the wheel. Still, your eyes are drawn back to the tree, taking in the damage to the car. There's no saving it, it's totaled alright. Both doors on the right side are caved in like they were made of tin foil. Incredulity that the mere foot of space left on the passenger side was enough to keep you unharmed hits you like a ton of bricks. You almost died. You SHOULD have died.
"Ma'am, are you ok?" Why does everyone keep asking you that? If they would just give you half a moment, you might be able to figure out an answer! You give the officer an obligatory response, followed by a violent shiver.
Slowly, you're escorted through the rain to the warmth of the officer's vehicle. Inches of thick mud beneath your feet cakes the sides of your boots, but it's no wonder since you can scarcely bend your knees. The desire to sleep, to be done with all of this, to forget everything, overwhelms you. The image of the tree meeting your face involuntarily plays over and over in your mind, and there is no distraction strong enough to keep it at bay.
Now in the family's Suburban, you look any direction but toward the flashing red and blue lights. Closing your eyes won't do. No, not at all. No amount of warm air can seem to stop your shivers and teeth chattering. Finally, that hug you've been silently longing for happens, and it feels nice, but also somehow, empty. No amount of hugging can erase the memories in your mind, can take away the fear in your heart. Cue the tears. Despite the agitation in one eye, they now come whether you want them to or not. They are few though, not the floodgates you expected. But the shiver-sobs are many, only adding to your exhaustion.
Moments blur together now, and nothing seeming important enough to grab your attention.
Then the car starts, and suddenly all your mental haze is gone, replaced with an involuntary awareness of every pothole, incline, curve, break, and speed increase. Each curve feels like you're sliding down that ditch again, every break, like the tree is coming for your head. The 10 minute drive feels like a year.
Home never looked so sweet, never felt so inviting. Your continual shivering has finally ceased, leaving you so exhausted, even standing is a burden. You body is screaming for sleep, yet your mind rejects the very thought of it. If blinking brings memories to mind, who knows what would come if you try to sleep. The thought is terrifying. But the feeling of total warmth is inviting, luring you towards sleep, to let go and just sleep. Finally, you reached that place, that place of so much exhaustion that everything inside and outside of you has just stopped. And finally, FINALLY, you sleep. Like a rock.
