In an instant
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I looked up and it was too late. All in a flash, my right front wheel went over the edge of the road. It was one of my worst fears since we moved out to the country. Right off of the sharp edge of the pavement was one of the common, straight down, three-foot deep drainage ditches. A blink later, the underside of my van was skidding on the rocky edge of the road, down-hill at fifty miles an hour. I had no control as a few wet trees, from the falling rain, ripped down the right side of my van. As both hands gripped tight to the wheel, I held on waiting for the next impact. Fifty feet ahead was a three-foot high embankment with a drainage pipe where a horse ranch driveway crossed over the ditch. The loud scraping of the under-side of my
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van was deafening, then ka-boom as I crashed head-on into the embankment. A moment of silence came followed by the most deafening crashing all around me. The final explosive image that will be forever burned into my mind is the 2x6 fence post coming through the windshield right into where someone would have been sitting in the passenger seat. There it was. It strangely enough, was as if it was saying hello to me in a soft whisper. I sat there for a moment, with glass chunks and dust coming to a final rest and the van began to fill with smoke. I was alive for sure and was able to pry my door open that had been jammed shut by a fence post and I squeeze out. I stumbled around dazed and a man that had been following behind me stopped and grabbed me and put me on the tailgate of his SUV. He said, ‘Take it easy, do you realize you went air-borne’. As he left to the neighbors for help, I walked around to the front of the van and could not stop looking at the 2x6, javelined through the windshield. There were three in total. Two had gone straight through the engine compartment, all the way into the fire-wall. The driver side post had gone in so far, it pushed the brake pedal up under the steering wheel. But it was surely the one through the windshield that was a message from God. Then I went around the smoking van to dig for my phone. My hands continued to tremble and shake as I called Francie. “I’ve had a really, really bad accident and I need you to come. I need you to come right away.” It was 8:56AM.
When I woke up it was 6:32, it was like any other day. I hit the snooze twice, tried to exercise a little, but quickly got ready for work. Francie had made me a breakfast shake to help me out. She said, “I’ve made a shake for you to go, you probably won’t like it, but I did my best.” How many times had I said, does it have this or that in it and so often seeming never good enough. Running late now, I needed to grab my coffee, shake and go while Francie and the kids had breakfast by themselves.
As I made my coffee, Francie had questions she needed my help with. We were leaving for California in five days for her brother's wedding and she was trying to plan details for the kids being taken care of while we were gone. It was too much stress for me right then and within 60 seconds an argument arose. It was one of those arguments that couldn’t seem to get diffused. The fact was that I was running late and she felt alone in trying to figure out a thousand things on her own. Our words heated, she left the room and the kids sat in silence, heads down, eating their bagels. I assured them that it had nothing to do with them and that it would be OK. As tradition goes, I collected all my things for work, walked around the table and kissed them all goodbye so I could go find Francie, apologize and leave. I did not find her anywhere in the house. She had left and gone for a walk, even in the rain. I waited for another ten minutes and something came over me and I decided that today I am not leaving the house until we have this all worked out. I had left a few months earlier in a situation like this and was pretty upset off and on all day. But today was different.
She came back and I met her on the porch. Nothing was magically better. As normal would be, we would try and get to an amiable departure. Not today. In my mind and heart, it was not an option. I was bound and determined to love her, even if I didn’t go to work at all. A few rocky moments later I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to sit on the steps with me. She really didn’t want to, but I gave her little choice. I shared that I loved her and was trying to help and she made it clear that she didn’t feel that way at all. I made some flippant, stupid statements and assumptions that she quickly corrected and then we sat there on the wet rainy porch in silence. And then, along with the rain, my heart opened up and began to pour out the real source of the argument. I began to cry as I shared some of the real reasons I was afraid and sad about leaving our kids behind for almost a week. They were much deeper issues than trying to figure out car-pooling. She held me in her arms and she in mine. A long, warm embrace filled with love and care. One of those that surpasses time and space and in silence, communicated all that needed to be said.
I went back in, blew my nose, kissed the kids again and rushed out the door to my van. I buckled up, backed out and headed down the drive. It was 8:52.
By noon I was back at the kitchen table, ready for lunch with my family. We all took turns praying and when all the tears were over, Jacob went to get the Kleenex box. Lunch was ‘burnt’ barbeque sandwiches and it was the best sandwich I’d ever had. Every bite. They all told me about how they had prayed for my safety when I left this morning. About how they didn’t know why they did. They shared how they had stopped and started praying together after mom got the phone call. Josiah, who’s seven sat up and said, “Dad, I thought about you not having a car so I got my money jar and counted it all. You can have all of mine. I have one hundred of money.” I cried some more as the rain stopped and sun began to shine brightly through the kitchen windows. The rest of the day was a blur of soreness, denial and all the headaches with the ‘after’ of an accident. There was a time last night where Francie came to me and grabbed me and told me what a great husband and father I am and even told the kids that too. Just plain said that. And throughout the night, there was unspoken words between us of thinking what the day and the rest of our lives would have been like with our last moments being an argument. In the moments of the accident, I had no fear of dying. I felt completely content with the life God had given me. I was ready to die if it be His will. But had I left Francie and the kids with frustration and anger, those last moments would have been filled with regret. By bed-time, over a hundred friends had sent messages and calls to me. And I was so glad to get them.
But today is different somehow. Waking up, my son Justin’s smile and talking about football seem’s to sound different in my ears, the cool breeze on the front porch even smells different as it passes through my nostrils. I’m going to the UT/South Carolina game today. I don’t really care about the game, but I am so excited about seeing my friend Chris again. Like never before. I know that over the days, the memories and thankfulness will begin to fade as many of the miracles in my life always have, but for today my vision is more crisp, my ears alert and my mind seems far more clear as to the things that are really important. The things eternal.
About fifty people have wanted to know, What Happened??? The ‘rest of the story’, the exciting story of being run off the road, a deer or a storm. I’ll tell you the ‘what happened’. I reached down for a text message and in an instant my life was almost over. That’s it. In an instant.
When I woke up it was 6:32, it was like any other day. I hit the snooze twice, tried to exercise a little, but quickly got ready for work. Francie had made me a breakfast shake to help me out. She said, “I’ve made a shake for you to go, you probably won’t like it, but I did my best.” How many times had I said, does it have this or that in it and so often seeming never good enough. Running late now, I needed to grab my coffee, shake and go while Francie and the kids had breakfast by themselves.
As I made my coffee, Francie had questions she needed my help with. We were leaving for California in five days for her brother's wedding and she was trying to plan details for the kids being taken care of while we were gone. It was too much stress for me right then and within 60 seconds an argument arose. It was one of those arguments that couldn’t seem to get diffused. The fact was that I was running late and she felt alone in trying to figure out a thousand things on her own. Our words heated, she left the room and the kids sat in silence, heads down, eating their bagels. I assured them that it had nothing to do with them and that it would be OK. As tradition goes, I collected all my things for work, walked around the table and kissed them all goodbye so I could go find Francie, apologize and leave. I did not find her anywhere in the house. She had left and gone for a walk, even in the rain. I waited for another ten minutes and something came over me and I decided that today I am not leaving the house until we have this all worked out. I had left a few months earlier in a situation like this and was pretty upset off and on all day. But today was different.
She came back and I met her on the porch. Nothing was magically better. As normal would be, we would try and get to an amiable departure. Not today. In my mind and heart, it was not an option. I was bound and determined to love her, even if I didn’t go to work at all. A few rocky moments later I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to sit on the steps with me. She really didn’t want to, but I gave her little choice. I shared that I loved her and was trying to help and she made it clear that she didn’t feel that way at all. I made some flippant, stupid statements and assumptions that she quickly corrected and then we sat there on the wet rainy porch in silence. And then, along with the rain, my heart opened up and began to pour out the real source of the argument. I began to cry as I shared some of the real reasons I was afraid and sad about leaving our kids behind for almost a week. They were much deeper issues than trying to figure out car-pooling. She held me in her arms and she in mine. A long, warm embrace filled with love and care. One of those that surpasses time and space and in silence, communicated all that needed to be said.
I went back in, blew my nose, kissed the kids again and rushed out the door to my van. I buckled up, backed out and headed down the drive. It was 8:52.
By noon I was back at the kitchen table, ready for lunch with my family. We all took turns praying and when all the tears were over, Jacob went to get the Kleenex box. Lunch was ‘burnt’ barbeque sandwiches and it was the best sandwich I’d ever had. Every bite. They all told me about how they had prayed for my safety when I left this morning. About how they didn’t know why they did. They shared how they had stopped and started praying together after mom got the phone call. Josiah, who’s seven sat up and said, “Dad, I thought about you not having a car so I got my money jar and counted it all. You can have all of mine. I have one hundred of money.” I cried some more as the rain stopped and sun began to shine brightly through the kitchen windows. The rest of the day was a blur of soreness, denial and all the headaches with the ‘after’ of an accident. There was a time last night where Francie came to me and grabbed me and told me what a great husband and father I am and even told the kids that too. Just plain said that. And throughout the night, there was unspoken words between us of thinking what the day and the rest of our lives would have been like with our last moments being an argument. In the moments of the accident, I had no fear of dying. I felt completely content with the life God had given me. I was ready to die if it be His will. But had I left Francie and the kids with frustration and anger, those last moments would have been filled with regret. By bed-time, over a hundred friends had sent messages and calls to me. And I was so glad to get them.
But today is different somehow. Waking up, my son Justin’s smile and talking about football seem’s to sound different in my ears, the cool breeze on the front porch even smells different as it passes through my nostrils. I’m going to the UT/South Carolina game today. I don’t really care about the game, but I am so excited about seeing my friend Chris again. Like never before. I know that over the days, the memories and thankfulness will begin to fade as many of the miracles in my life always have, but for today my vision is more crisp, my ears alert and my mind seems far more clear as to the things that are really important. The things eternal.
About fifty people have wanted to know, What Happened??? The ‘rest of the story’, the exciting story of being run off the road, a deer or a storm. I’ll tell you the ‘what happened’. I reached down for a text message and in an instant my life was almost over. That’s it. In an instant.
The 4 Story Types
There are four types of stories that will be shared in a rotation: Social Harm - an event that unfolded at school, on the playground, church choir practice, in class, at camp etc. Personal Trauma - loss of a loved one, first love, betrayal of a friend, physical or emotional harm. Family of Origin - a family trip, night around the dinner table... a story that exemplifies how you fit into your family and the role you played. Sexuality - events that shaped your sexual identity and understanding or your sense of what it means to be a man or a woman. It is our hope that these stories will stir your desire to engage your own story that is part of God's epic story.
