No accidents

Four years ago, I had an amazing experience. It was the only time in my life where I'd ever thought, for an instant, that I was going to die right then. And the intense joy that I felt when I realized I was still alive was pretty magical.

I was driving to Canada to spend a 4-day weekend with my friend for her birthday. I took a couple of days off of work because, in a sense, this birthday seemed important. Her mom had just passed away a few months earlier; this was the first birthday she would be celebrating without her mom there. Thus, we weren't really going to "celebrate," but rather just have some quality time together.

Even though it was August, we were experiencing a downpour. As much as I think Seattle drivers should be used to the rain, it was still backing up traffic and causing some pretty precarious situations on the road.

As I was driving, I suddenly saw brake lights in front of me, a lot closer than was comfortable with. I quickly slammed on my brakes and was quite relieved when I stopped a foot or two behind the car in front of me. Out of habit, I checked my review mirror, only to see a silver Ford F-350 careening towards me, showing no sign of slowing down. My hands grasped the wheel and I braced myself for the impact.

The next thing I heard was a horrible scrunching sound as the truck crashed into the trunk of my car, and I felt myself lurching forward, still in my seat but suddenly out of control. My car, a much smaller Toyota Camry, jolted forward at such an alarming speed that all I could think of was, "This is it. I think I am going to die." 

What happened next was amazing. I still can't explain it, except that it makes me think that God was totally present and guiding my car. All I remember was that I hung on to the steering wheel as my body thrashed around inside the thrown car from the impact. When my car finally stopped moving, I was 3 lanes over, slammed up against the cement barrier of I-5, facing the opposite direction than I had been 10 seconds earlier. I was thankfully over on the shoulder of the freeway, out of on-coming traffic and out of harm's way.

As soon as my car shuddered to a stop, I jumped out. I was a little disoriented, but at that second, I was so, soooo incredibly happy. I was alive! I have no idea what happened, or how my car didn't hit another car as it somehow wove its way through 3 additional lanes of rush-hour traffic, but somehow it didn't and somehow I was alive. A sense of pure joy washed over me as I walked a few steps, paying special attention to the amazing, “being”, living existence of my legs and the feel of the pavement below my feet. My back seemed a bit twisted and out of whack, and there was some tension in my neck, but all in all I felt great. I was on "this side" of life and death.

I stopped my jumping around and looked at the F-350 that had gone through several more vehicles, hitting the car that had been in front of mine, and starting a chain reaction that didn't stop until 4 more cars had been damaged. I looked at all the other cars that were surrounding the mess; all stopped, all just seemingly waiting. I imagined the cars in the other lanes were stopped not because their drivers slammed on the brakes, but out of sympathy for a fellow car. My battered Camry sat dejectedly, beaten, on the side of the highway. I quickly walked to the back of my car and inspected the damage.

And only then did I remember the scrapbook. The beautiful piece of art, the detailed pages, the family pictures that were included... the surprise scrapbook that Ati had started to make for her daughter before she passed away. Before Ati passed, she asked me if I could help her with some of the pages; get some notes from her daughter's friends, collect pictures that could be included, etc. I had tried to do so and had made some progress, and the pages that I had finished, along with all of Ati's pages, were in a big container in my trunk. And when I walked back to the trunk, I saw that these things, these pieces of art from both Ati and the things I had put together, had been destroyed. My trunk had been completely smashed in. Actually, I didn't have a "trunk" to speak of anymore; the end of my car was now the backseat. The trunk had just disappeared. The scrapbook pages were now covered in Seattle rain, and in the pomegranate wine that I was bringing up to Canada. The bottle had been smashed into 1,000 pieces by the impact. My heart dropped.

But then, for a moment, I thought of Ati and how her scrapbook pages were in between the truck and myself. Obviously not a physical barrier, but more of a symbolic one. The scrapbook had been made with love, and I felt so much love in that moment. For Ati, from Ati, for my friend... And I really felt that Ati was with me right then. I was so grateful to be alive, and so grateful for God, and it was again an amazing, wonderful moment.

A few minutes later I called another friend, and when she heard what had happened, she said, with such conviction but also with such tenderness, "You are in God's pocket. You are right there, safe and protected." She quoted some scripture to me, and I felt such a sense of peace and security. We talked for a bit more, and I just kept feeling so grateful that I was alive and well. And I was so grateful for this friend, not only for her love that was embracing me over the phone, but also because she was able to give me a spiritual perspective on what had just happened. I felt so incredibly blessed, and so grateful that NO ONE, not me or the driver of the truck or the occupants of the other cars or anybody in the other lanes of I-5, had been seriously injured. We had all been protected, safe and secure.

When I finally arrived to Vancouver, B.C., that night (my friend and her father came to pick me up), I was again surrounded by such a feeling of love, from my friend and her father and from God. And later, when I sheepishly gave my friend her birthday card that had been splattered with wine and rain, she looked at it and smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

“I love this card,” she said as she took it from me. She hadn’t even opened it yet, but her smile remained. “This card is from you, and every time I look at it, I will be reminded that you are okay. I will keep it forever.”

I slept really well that night, thinking of God's protection, feeling the love from my family and friends, and knowing that this day had been such a gift in so many ways.