I drive so much these days. I think I am making up for the six years of license eligibility, and I am doing it swimmingly. I have put almost 20,000 new miles on Corinna the Chevy Cobalt, whom I've had for just seven months. This type of constant traveling can give one a false sense of security, of bravado. In the past two weeks I have made three turkey and cheese sandwiches while I was driving (I'm talking deli meat turkey, pepper jack cheese). Slowly but surely,I think I was beginning to believe that I could summon the strength to go 75 miles per hour, with or without a car.
As I drove along this line of thinking, along the Athens outer loop, I heard the screeching tires and I saw the car directly in front of me hopping in between the two lanes. After dancing for a bit, the car made a beeline for the right side median and front-ended the concrete with a sickening crunch. As it came to rest in the opposite direction of traffic, I realized that I was looking at the crash through my rearview mirror. I cannot fathom how I passed by the out-of-control car with nary a scratch, but I did.
My tally of near-death experiences is steadily increasing. My confidence in my abilities is decreasing. The knobs of circumstance have become too slippery and unwieldy for my childish hands. To say I am grateful for God's control would make it sound as though I weighed the options and decided this was the best idea. As the options of luck, serendipity, coincidence, and willpower dissolve into smoke and mirrors, I am confronted with the Truth, and his firm, gentle guiding hand on my life.
I'm so thankful that I'm incapable of doing any good on my own. ~Caedmon's Call
