Thank God for Chiropractors.
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The
Pink Room: Thoughts About Intentional Living
Chapter
10/ Proof of Life.
Part
2 (Previous post contain the previous chapters.)
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When I was younger our family would
put sunflower seeds on the deck’s railing. The original effort was to feed the
birds. We were in the city, so there were larger birds like blue jays and
cardinals. After some time there were squirrels. Over time, there were fewer
and fewer birds and more and more squirrels. Feeding the birds became feeding
the squirrels. We’d watch them out the picture window in the kitchen. I did not
know until high school that the neighbors thought drawing a ton of squirrels
into the neighborhood was annoying and squirrels were pets. I didn’t know they
were pests. When I found out, it changed how I viewed everything.
Life doesn’t look like what I
thought it would look like at this age. I didn’t have a written list, but it
was more like a picture in the back of my mind. Check boxes of sorts--it had things in it like marriage, a couple kids, a
lucrative career, a house, maybe a cottage, significant ongoing ministry of
some kind...stuff. Going back to school full-time wasn’t in that picture. But
neither was meeting my favorite writer, helping create an event called ArtSpace,
going to Jerusalem, climbing to the top of Petra, driving across the country, or
so many other things. The picture did not include a second career, my
grandparents dying before I was eighteen, Mom’s knee replacements, or Dad’s
cancer either. Car wrecks definitely were not on the list.
I went through a stretch of time
that was particularly devastating to cars. Around eighteen years of age, the
destruction began. The “new to you” Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was a couple
feet shorter. The Ford Tempo, with the auto seat belts that moved up the door
frame, was a few inches narrower. (Those seat belts would periodically nail you
in the head, which hurt like blazes.)
I drove home from work and was
turning into the alleyway. The driveway was only thirty yards away. The next
thing I remember is looking in the rear-view mirror and thinking the car coming
seemed to be going fast. Then I remember the awful loud crunching of plastic
and metal which made me feel deaf for a minute or two. I was numb; the car
behind me was way too close in relative space—and where was my trunk? The
driver wasn’t moving. I didn’t know how much time passed. I felt dizzy and
disoriented. I had to check on the other driver though. It took some doing, the
whole frame sifted. I finally unbuckled and opened the door, it creaked funnily—it
never made that noise before.
My neck and back felt like strange
and acted like an overstretched rubber band-- sort of wobbly, it wasn’t right.
I walked a few feet seeing the devastation, the car behind me had its hood,
inside the trunk of my car. Apparently, while I was at a standstill, the other
car never slowed down from 35-45mph, hitting me at full speed.
The woman didn’t move at first.
Suddenly she picked up her head and said “Follow me! Follow me! Follow me!” and
then took off, in her car—she sped away! I tried to drive the car, it was not
working properly. I went around the block and home again. I was bawling. I
didn’t know how to tell my parents what had happened. The only comfort I could
think of was that there was absolutely no way I could have done that to the car
all on my own.
By the time I got home the person
living across the street, who happened to be sitting on the porch and witnessed
the entire episode, had called the police. A cop was already there talking with
him, they were both confused why there were no cars. The policeman came over
and talked with me and my dad after I parked. He asked for the story, and then
explored the street. My mom had just gotten home, all the commotion was in
full-swing. I told my parents the whole story to the best of my ability, I was
still inconsolable.
The policeman yelled for our
attention, “Hey, is this yours?” He was waving a license plate. The plates were
still on our car. “Nope!” There was a moment of happiness.
I went to the ER and got checked
out, a seat belt bruise and severe whiplash was the worst of it. The policeman
said there was nothing to worry about and we could all go in the house. And we
thought that was that. It wasn’t my fault, no citations. I received a note that
I might have to appear in court due to the hit and run.
A few hours later, to our surprise,
the policeman returned. He began to tell what seemed like a tall tale. The
woman who hit my car did not have insurance. She had three outstanding warrants
for her arrest. When they found the car it was covered so no one could see the
damage. She did not have insurance, neither did her boyfriend—it was his car.
She had a loaded gun by the door to top it off, that also was not licensed. The
officer asked, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t follow her?” and smiled. I was very
glad. And then I received a thank you for helping catch the woman. I still
scratch my head on that one.
The other accidents were not nearly
as interesting. Although it is interesting that I was never cited for anything—I
wasn’t at fault, just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In one a truck
crossed the center line and in a foot of slush, I lost control of the car and
hit a telephone pole. When the police came, you could still see the tire tracks
in the slush. The other accident, a lady sped out from behind the turning lane
traffic and hit the back of the car in the intersection. Either side of the
rear three-quarters of the car were smashed in and repaired. The car was
narrower. The seat belt on the Tempo would jerk up the frame now, but to the
average person, they’d have been none the wiser.
I’m very lucky that I had little
more than whiplash. I have a sensitive back now, chiropractors are my friends.
The car wrecks were frightening, but
going back to school full-time was one of the scariest things I have ever done.
I was good at my job in a ministry, I was getting my fill of serving God and
people in a professional-type role, and I walked away from it. Looking back, I
was supposed to want it and must have been nuts to walk away. Yet I would not
have found the peace and joy of a closer relationship with God without walking
away.
One morning at a Bible study, just
before I left the ministry position, I said that I wasn't sure I could follow
God wherever He lead like that—with everything. A wonderfully encouraging group
of women decided I was silly and that I could, because He'd help. Their faith
in me, made my faith stronger. That move tried every fiber of my being at one
time or another, and that was just the beginning, but Jesus is faithful with me
on this journey. Even though I live off the mental plan, and there is no map
for this journey, practice tells me that unexpected twists and turns are manageable
with Jesus leading the way.
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For a while that picture in my mind,
of “what should be,” was the crux of a whole lot of sadness. Those things are
not happening, and I couldn’t make them happen. (Marriage, kids, house…) That
picture of how life was “supposed to be,” has eroded and changed over the years.
Some things that were important are no longer important and something’s are
much more important. Perspective and time change you. Priorities change.
Someone I knew a while back said his
elevator speech is that he's “a life coach with plenty of scars willing to help
people.” That it was important to note, the scars, because without that
evidence you don't have proof that he's "been there." I can relate to
that.
But more importantly a counselor
friend of mine said at a morning church meeting, “don’t should’ all over
yourself,” and that stuck with me.
