Thursday, May 9, 1996 was not a great day. I expected it to be and perhaps expectations have been an area of complication most of my life. That day I set the kiln during school hours and got home early though I left behind much to be done. My birthday had fallen on Wednesday and with teaching and church service, there wasn’t much birthday to it. My beloved hadn’t made it to the shopping stage, so we decided to celebrate Thursday with dinner out. That evening, he agreed to go back with me to Mansfield to check the kiln afterward. I wasn’t crazy about going back so late and that thought pleased me as we set out.
Before going to eat, my husband wanted to go to the store. I thought he was going to buy me a birthday present. For two hours we poured over Mother’s Day cards and he shopped for a ‘perfect gift’ for his mom. I loved my mother in law, but this was supposed to be ‘my day’. I was impatient, agitated and, eventually, down right mad. About 8:30 I stated that I had to go back to Mansfield and we hadn’t had supper. Sans gift we left the store, stopped by and picked up burgers and went home. Louis decided that it was going to be too late, Amanda needed to get some homework done and go to bed and so I set off for Mansfield alone – very angry.
I checked the kiln, put a few things in order and headed back to Fort Smith all the while chewing on the injustice of the night and life in general. As I approached the Hwy 10 intersection –this was before the stop light or the speed reduction- I saw the car waiting at the top of the hill for me to pass. I didn’t slow down. Why would I?
What I didn’t see was the drunk driver coming up the other side of the hill who would slam the guy who had his blinker on and his wheels turned in anticipation of my passing. Just as I reached the intersection, the car spun out in front of me insanely. There was no time to stop.
However, I did not know that, for I had entered a timeless moment where I was given a choice as to how the accident would play out. I chose life. Now you can believe what you choose about that statement, but it is how it happened with me. As soon as I made the choice, the play button was activated and life continued with noise and pain. The rest of the night was spent in cleaning up the mess life had made. Consciousness finally stabilized. I was carried eventually from my driver’s seat to an ambulance in which I made the trip back to Fort Smith with my mind full of questions. About 2 or 3 AM, they sent me home with bruises, broken ribs, soft tissue damage and, later we would learn, crushed vertebrae. I have spent the past 14 years processing that night in various ways.
Knowing I was given a choice has always been the catalyst for the process. I began studying every Bible character who was given a second chance to live or be. I wanted to know what to expect. I wanted to understand the pitfalls that might accompany such an event. I still live with the same personality and characteristics. I get mad; I get hurt; I get frustrated when my expectations don’t pan out. But joy seems more joyful where it falls and I see tomorrow as a motivation for today. Instead of the philosophy that this might be my last day, I have the philosophy that there just might be a tomorrow and what I do today has a lot to do with what I can do tomorrow.
The ‘last day of your life’ reasoning is a given. One day will be my last, but why live for that? Why not plant the garden? If I am here, I will want to eat the cucumbers and tomatoes and raspberries. Why should wanting to know my God and enjoy my family be based on the end of things? Yes, there will be an end, but I will need God skills if I am to live and a relationship with my family is not based on my eulogy but on the possibility of a future. It may seem irrelevant to others, but this has changed the way I relate. If I can stand before God now with all my ‘this and that’ and be loved, I have no problem standing before him when life ends. That is my quest.
I have often wondered why I chose to live. Life wasn’t too great right then. There have been many times when I’ve thought since then that the need to ‘live’ was overrated. Yet I needed to see the lovely Taylor and the quizative complex Cody. I needed to know Mr Caleb and watch him go through the fire to be an incredible young man. I needed to hold Olivia and look into her big questioning eyes and feel her hand on my face. I needed to know my daughter’s adopted children and anticipate little Emma Grace. I needed to be part of my grandchildren’s lives during times of struggle and restructuring. I needed to decorate a gazebo and throw a party in the park with the help of a daughter I didn’t get to throw a party for.
I needed to buy prom dresses and watch my daughter fight to come out of the darkness frustration had sent her into. I needed to buy a purple car and take a rose from her hand at graduation. I needed to know reconciliation and redemption at work in the lives of my struggling children. I needed to serve my father in his waning years and attend to him at his end of life as he did for me at my beginning. I needed to understand the rift between my mother and I and I needed to build a bridge to span that life long chasm. I needed to know my nieces, to laugh and cry and learn their wonder and pray for them in their trials.
I needed to push my own creative limits, to strike out into the unknown and learn to believe what I thought I believed. I needed to learn to trust and care and give myself instead of just money and material things. I needed to witness God’s amazing ability to bring his will about in my life and in the life of others. I needed to know these interesting, awesome believers I call friends.
I needed to meet Lisa and walk through a lighted underground highway in the wee hours wondering why. I needed to build a kitchen and learn how little I really knew but how much I could find out. I needed to teach Linda and Brandon to paint!!
My body still has limitations that remind me of the ‘accident’, but these days I wonder if it was really an accident as we think of it or was it a divine intervention? Was it a challenge from my Father, a challenge I’ve not met that well at times, to know and understand him more? Am I better off or a better person for it?
I’m not so concerned with knowing how much time I have left. Is it a year? Is it a day? I don’t know if that is the issue anymore. I will plant my garden and teach my students and plan for tomorrow. If today is right, tomorrow will be okay.
