180

My wife and I were on our way home from church; (on the same street as my previous illustration). Jean was driving our old green 1980 something Oldsmobile; a somewhat longer vehicle than one generally sees on the road today. We were traveling at 50 MPH, or greater, and as we neared an intersecting road on our right, which was marked with a stop sign, hardly stopping, a small blue car pulled into our pathway.

We could plainly see a man and woman in the front of the car, and a little boy and girl in the back seat. Less than 50 feet separated the two vehicles, as Jean locked up the brakes. An accident seemed inevitable. As with so many traumatic events, time seemed to slow down. (Interestingly enough, I have read that this syndrome is possible because the brain is processing more information than  usual in a brief amount of time).

It was obvious that my wife had every intention of plowing headlong into the smaller car, (and no doubt, all the occupants of that vehicle would have been seriously injured or killed.) Though we were driving a much larger automobile, we also would not have been spared. You see, we weren’t wearing our seatbelts.

Suddenly, I just KNEW what I had to do.

I reached over with my left hand, took the steering wheel from Jean, and began steering it in a direction that would take us around the rear of the small vehicle. Amazingly, we cleared the back bumper of the little car by a foot. Both my wife and I found ourselves leaning hard in the direction of the driver’s window. (As a result of that event, I can relate to the G-forces the astronauts endure, as they reach maximum acceleration).

But the ride was far from over. Our ungainly old car began a 180 degree slide. Suddenly, the back end was where the front end was just seconds before. Now we were sliding backwards. As the car lost momentum, we neared a wooden fence to our left which bordered a house. We finally slid to a stop in a grassy area, a few feet from the fence, very shaken, but not a scratch on either of us.  

As for the small blue car, it was nowhere to be found. As we had continued our surrealistic journey, I noticed it as it turned left into the opposite lanes of the four lane highway. However, I would have NEVER expected the driver to “keep on keeping on.” The decent thing to have done, the only thing to have done, would have been to stop and check on our status. But that is not what happened.

However, just about this time another car pulled up to the stop sign from whence the former vehicle had come. Having seen the spectacle falling together around him, I have no doubt that he had watched the proceedings with awe. The motorist asked if we were okay, and after we assured him we were, he drove away.

Paradoxically Providential. 

Momentarily Miraculous.

As I have previously alluded, both my wife and I have experienced multiple episodes such as the foregoing one, while too many of our classmates left us as the result of the first traumatic incident they had ever encountered.

There is a trite, well-used phrase which occurs to me here, one which every one of us have heard quoted more than once in our lives.

“I guess the Lord was finished with him (or her).”

Well, I don’t know about that.

However, as the result of so many near misses, I am assured that God still has a work for me to do, and for my wife to fulfill.

I suppose we ought to get about finishing that work.


By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 11. Vol.'s 1-15, Copyright 2015

 

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