We live by freeways. Who doesn't these days, I know, and hardly a day goes by that I don't spend part of my time on one or more freeways. I listen to music, I listen to my kids fight, I listen Paige holler that she needs chocolate. But always in the back of this is the running dialogue in my brain which tends to focus largely on all the danger, both real and imaginary, that I feel hunkering about me waiting to strike. Usually this involves some splitting of my family, and it's hardest not to listen when we are in fact separated. Mike at work, some kids at school, Paige at a play date--any time we're divided. But I don't really feel the intense worry when I'm driving with all three kids in the car. I guess I figure if something happened, it's OK because we're all together, because I wouldn't leave any children behind. I know it's warped and irrational, but I know you understand.
That was a long preface to a short story. So this morning, the kids and I were heading to Fairy Tale Town for a fun outing, when I felt I was almost waking up. Suddenly, it seemed to me, I could see the freeway clearly. It was crowded and moving fast, and it seemed abnormally dangerous to me. My internal dialogue went straight into 'what if' mode, and I thought about what Mike would do if all three kids and I were to die in a car accident. Despite my tendency to catastrophize, this had never really occurred to me before. It took a split second to see it and wonder--would he still practice dentistry? Live in the house? In Sacramento? You get the idea. Just a split second. And in that second I pulled my foot off the gas--a natural reaction to the crowded freeway and the crazy line of thought my brain tends to take.
And as I pulled my foot back, I saw a stone the size of a bucket come flying over the other side of the freeway toward the car. In retrospect it seems like it had to come from an overpass, because it was huge and coming fast, but it was arching like it came from somewhere lower. Either way, it was moving too fast for me to react in any way, and I was stunned as it slammed into the front end of the minivan and rocketed back up into the air headed someplace to my right. I still feel worried that it might have hit some other car before it finally landed.
When I parked the car and got out to look at what I felt sure would be a seriously damaged hood, I saw that the stone had smashed directly into the license plate of the car. The frame of the plate was mostly gone and the plate itself was mashed. The was a minor gash where the stone had shot back up after hitting the plate, and the H on the front was hanging off. That's shockingly little damage from anything as big as what hit my car.
I stood there with my three perfectly unharmed kids and felt dizzy with gratitude. I don't care if you view it as divine intervention or a run-of-the-mill coincidence. The fact is that if I didn't pull my foot off the gas when I did, that massive stone would have smashed directly into my windshield. It really hasn't done anything for my tendency to over-emphasize the fleeting and fragile nature of life, but I can't help feeling the miracle of my family a little more deeply today. We are whole and well and continuing today, and for once, that's enough. I guess I have enough gratitude today to overpower the fear. Maybe I haven't had enough time to process why, but somehow I'm changed from this. I may not understand what it means, but I know a miracle when it slams me in the fender.
And I feel a need to contact my family and tell them we're OK. So you didn't know we were in danger, but we're all fine. And that should be an exclamation--we're all fine! Do you believe it? We survived! Hallelujah!
Also, I think it shows how silly it is to want expensive cars. You're bound to smash into things, you know.
That was a long preface to a short story. So this morning, the kids and I were heading to Fairy Tale Town for a fun outing, when I felt I was almost waking up. Suddenly, it seemed to me, I could see the freeway clearly. It was crowded and moving fast, and it seemed abnormally dangerous to me. My internal dialogue went straight into 'what if' mode, and I thought about what Mike would do if all three kids and I were to die in a car accident. Despite my tendency to catastrophize, this had never really occurred to me before. It took a split second to see it and wonder--would he still practice dentistry? Live in the house? In Sacramento? You get the idea. Just a split second. And in that second I pulled my foot off the gas--a natural reaction to the crowded freeway and the crazy line of thought my brain tends to take.
And as I pulled my foot back, I saw a stone the size of a bucket come flying over the other side of the freeway toward the car. In retrospect it seems like it had to come from an overpass, because it was huge and coming fast, but it was arching like it came from somewhere lower. Either way, it was moving too fast for me to react in any way, and I was stunned as it slammed into the front end of the minivan and rocketed back up into the air headed someplace to my right. I still feel worried that it might have hit some other car before it finally landed.
When I parked the car and got out to look at what I felt sure would be a seriously damaged hood, I saw that the stone had smashed directly into the license plate of the car. The frame of the plate was mostly gone and the plate itself was mashed. The was a minor gash where the stone had shot back up after hitting the plate, and the H on the front was hanging off. That's shockingly little damage from anything as big as what hit my car.
I stood there with my three perfectly unharmed kids and felt dizzy with gratitude. I don't care if you view it as divine intervention or a run-of-the-mill coincidence. The fact is that if I didn't pull my foot off the gas when I did, that massive stone would have smashed directly into my windshield. It really hasn't done anything for my tendency to over-emphasize the fleeting and fragile nature of life, but I can't help feeling the miracle of my family a little more deeply today. We are whole and well and continuing today, and for once, that's enough. I guess I have enough gratitude today to overpower the fear. Maybe I haven't had enough time to process why, but somehow I'm changed from this. I may not understand what it means, but I know a miracle when it slams me in the fender.
And I feel a need to contact my family and tell them we're OK. So you didn't know we were in danger, but we're all fine. And that should be an exclamation--we're all fine! Do you believe it? We survived! Hallelujah!
Also, I think it shows how silly it is to want expensive cars. You're bound to smash into things, you know.
1 comment:
what the heck? I tried to call you a couple of times lately. That is quite scary! I'm glad everybody escaped unscathed. I'll call you.
Also, Happy 8th to Lynnie!!
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