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, it would at least seem so.
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. 19. Copyright pending
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