Gratitude

Every time I see this clip, I get a little emotional.


How can a heart express gratitude for all God's small miracles? Keeping constant watch. Reminding me in little ways to look UP.


I remember being a junior in high school at Monterey Bay Academy desperate to get to class after sleeping late-- groping half-blindly in the sink basin looking for a dropped contact lens. A plea: "God, help me!"-- and suddenly there it was, sitting right next to the drain. My lost little contact lens (unbelievably, I still made it to class on time!). 


This morning I was on the I-15 going south at 80 mph. I was going to church.
I was in the far left lane about to move right to pass a slow cab. As I made my move, I noticed a semi-truck pulled off to the right shoulder, clearly in distress. Neon orange triangles partially blocked the pavement near the rig.


I put on my blinker, and began to accelerate when I saw something on the road in front of me.


In a split second I realized I was going to hit it, and in the same instant, I knew it wasn't a shredded piece of tire (all too common on Las Vegas freeways). I also instantaneously realized two other things: I didn't have room to swerve around it, and ahead of me lay more terrifyingly large heaps of the same debris.


All of this occurred to me in less than a millisecond. Maybe even faster.


I felt my hands tighten on the wheel. Every muscle in my body grew taut as a new bowstring. And then, my foot stepped on the ACCELERATOR.


It was 10:51 a.m.


My mind went blank... quiet... completely empty of any conscious thought. My car swerved to the left, just in front of the cab and inches from what appeared to be a muffler. 


Then the car swerved back to the right, barely missing another huge piece of engine. Someone's fuel injector or intake manifold. I registered that. 


A chunk of metallic death. Just lying there in the middle of the road. 


The car straightened out and I remember stepping on the gas to slow down a little, then glancing to the right shoulder where, lo and behold, a vehicle sat surrounded by police cars with the engine dangling out the bottom of the chassis.


It was like I suddenly took off noise-reduction headphones. The intense silence lifted suddenly away and I realized I was alive and still on my way toward church.

I looked at the dashboard clock. It was 10:52.

Maybe it was instinct: Driver's Ed finally kicking in just when I needed it. But you'll never convince me of that. 

Because I don't remember being the one turning the steering wheel. I remember it moved, but I didn't turn it. I remember thinking, Why is my foot on the gas?? And then... a tranquil silence. And there was no fear at all. 

It was only after my brain finally processed what had just occurred that I felt fear, and only for what could have happened. 

When I think about what actually happened, it seems like what some people call an "out of body experience." Except I never looked down on myself driving. I remember seeing out of my own eyes as my car maneuvered like it was cornering on the Atlanta Motor Speedway. I remember the stillness most of all. And I remember how strange it felt that I should be so calm.

As I drove on, I kept thanking God. Over and over and over again.

Because I know, in my heart, I was not in control of that car.


It's not much of a miracle I know, when you really think about it. A Saturday morning drive on the 15... but maybe God was trying to tell me something, just the same.