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| View of the south-side of Mount Shasta |
Driving home from Oregon two days ago I experienced the most terrifying moments of my life.
Bret had been driving for four hours. We had stopped for breakfast in Grants Pass but it was now time for a second cup of coffee in Weed.
As we stopped to stretch our legs, I told my kids to look for Mount Shasta (which was currently encased in clouds).
"Believe it or not, there's a magnificent mountain behind those clouds. If you're patient, you might catch a glimpse of it." We got our coffee and stood in the parking lot waiting to catch the view. (see picture)
Two hours later we switched drivers in Redding. With a full tank of gas, the kids watching a movie in the back, and Bret getting comfortable in the passenger seat I moved into the fast lane, happy to set my cruise control at 80 mph on our way home to Fresno.
Thirty miles south of Redding, both lanes of traffic were flowing at fast speeds and were full of semi-trucks and cars. I know the age-old rule of never driving in someone's blind spot, but when both lanes are traveling at fairly equal rates and are tight with traffic, it's hard to stay out of someone's blind spot.
Suddenly, without warning, the car a few feet ahead of me in the right lane merged into my lane.
I tried to break lightly hoping the driver would eventually see me and back-off.
He did not.
Within milliseconds, I was pushed onto the shoulder.
I tried to ride the shoulder and not get dragged too far into the median while I eased down harder on the breaks realizing I've got to slow my car down. With my front-wheels breaking, my back wheels began to sway, catching my back left wheel in the gravel outside the shoulder and sucking my car into the median.
It's amazing how fast our minds can race in the middle of an emergency...
Years ago, Bret and I had rented a wave-runner at Shaver Lake. I remember driving over a large wave that made me nervous. Worried I was going to flip us over, I let off the gas (which for a wave-runner is equivalent to pressing the brakes) which spun Bret and I both off the boat, knocking Bret in the head. That experience taught me that suddenly breaking when traveling at an accelerated rate will produce unexpected torques and turns - it's much better to ease speed down, if possible.
With a tight grip on the steering wheel I was fighting to keep my car facing forward. North-bound traffic was just a few yards to the left of me, as was the South-bound traffic behind me.
I've never wrestled an alligator, but that is my best comparison. My car pulled left, so I pulled right. It pulled right, so I pulled left. Every tiny movement of my steering wheel was amplified by my speed as I tried to keep us from spinning out completely or flipping over into on-coming traffic.
What felt like forever finally ended as my van came to a stop landing perpendicular in the middle of CA I5 South. I glanced over my right shoulder at my two children and the on-coming traffic in the window.
My next thought: my children are in on-coming traffic.
All I could see in my back window was a semi-truck.
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Since you're obviously reading this story a few days after this incident, there's a good ending.
The semi-truck and all other traffic had seen the car run me off the road. They had backed off and had come to a crawl. Have you ever seen a police officer perform a traffic-break? It was like there was a supernatural break-in-traffic, surrounding our car.
My car wouldn't turn on as we sat still on the freeway.
After a few deep breaths, I got it on.
"We're okay, Connie," my husband said kindly and calmly, "just put it into drive."
The truck behind me flashed his lights to signal to go ahead and adjust my car to drive forward. He was buffering me to help make a path for me to get off the freeway. Other cars gave me space to merge over into the right lane and soon I was off the freeway.
Up the off-ramp. Signal to turn right. Break at the stop sign. Look both ways. Turn onto the road. Drive a few more yards to a place to pull over. Put the car in park. Turn the car off.
My brain was reduced to auto-pilot. We were off the road and out-of-danger.
"Are you okay?" my husband gently asked.
The dam of emotions broke and I began to weep and shake.
We all got out to give each other hugs and check on Crosby (that's my car's name, her color is Bing Cherry). Except for gravel being impelled deep on her underside, she looked good.
A white van pulled up behind us and a woman got out.
"I saw the whole thing and knew this was a family van so I wanted to make sure you were okay. Can I give you a hug?" With tears streaming from both our eyes, a mom I do not know embraced me. "That was some fancy driving. I thought for sure you were going to flip. You did good."
Suffice to say, I didn't drive home.
Once we were back on the road, I quietly teared up thinking of so many "what ifs" that would have been tragic for my family. On all counts, no damage was done. I believe our lives were spared on Tuesday. God helped me wield my car, surrounded us with a buffer of protection and a space where we were safe to drive (crazily) in the median. I'm doing my best to keep the potential-tragedy-thoughts at bay and instead focus on the reality of extreme blessings we experienced in this story.
I also have to be honest with not even knowing how to share my thankfulness. While I am aware that our lives were spared on Tuesday, three of my friends have died in car accidents in my life-time. I would never claim God was with me and not with my friends. Somehow - though I may never understand - I believe God is good and with us all the time, in tragedy and in joy. I do not believe God ordains, or wills the tragedy - I believe He is a God of love, never seeking retribution but always seeking restoration. (as you can tell...lots of internal processing going on...)
I've been thinking a lot about that majestic mountain that is so often shrouded in clouds and hard to see - or even know is there. Regardless of whether I believe it is there or not, or spend time gazing to catch a glimpse of it or not - the mountain remains. I experienced the power of that majesty touching earth on Tuesday and am forever grateful to God.
May you spend time looking for God-at-work in your life and in our world. Just like Mount Shasta, God is here - look and see!
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| The north-side of Mount Shasta |
