The Tree That Saved My Life, or Goodbye, Giselle

Last Thursday night on my way home from work, I was in a car accident. An oncoming car had drifted into my lane and was coming at me, and if I hadn't swerved, he would have side-swiped me. Unfortunately, the swerving caused me to loose control of my car and I spun around and headed sideways off the road into a corn field and rammed into a tree. While it was happening, I thought, "Is this how I die?" But even as I was asking it, I knew it wasn't. So I just let go and let it happen. I remember consciously doing this. It was happening, and there was nothing I could do anymore. After I stopped, I had three vaguely stunned concerns: where my left shoe was (it was under the seat), why my right foot was on the gas (had I accelerated through the entire accident? Had I done this to myself, like some kind of death wish? It didn't seem likely that I hadn't braked at all. It took me about half an hour to figure out that on impact, my foot had slipped from the brake onto the gas pedal), and how to find my cellphone in the car, because everything had either scattered or flown out of the window when it hit the tree (I eventually remembered I could turn on the interior light). The passenger window had shattered, and the windshield was going to fall in on me any minute. Everything was covered in glass. I'll spare you the despairing details of the rest of the evening, but needless to say, my car is quite dead. I had Brad and Dad take some photos when they came to get me, but it was dark and you can't really see. And no, no one stopped. Not the guy who ran me off the road, not anyone passing, not even the people in the farm across the street, whose lights were all on.

I mostly gave up being a Christian some years ago, but having been in this accident, I can't help but think that even though it was terrible, someone was really looking out for me. There are a number of reasons why. First, no one was in the car with me. If there had been anyone in the passenger side, they would have either most likely died, or have been so seriously injured they would not have been able to walk away from the accident. I don't know that I could have lived with that kind of guilt. Second, I spun around before hitting the tree, so I didn't hit the driver side. I would not have walked away either, in this case. And lastly, is the tree. If that tree hadn't been there to stop me, I would have flipped my car over. At least once, possibly multiple times. I can't even imagine how that would have ended up, but in all actuality, that tree saved my life.

I don't know if I can explain what this means to me. At first, this looked like a terrible event and nothing good had come of it. But time went on, I gathered my wits about me, and Brad helped me to see what had really happened. I realized something more awesome than I can explain: the earth had saved me. My beautiful earth, who gives so much as is, all those free sunsets and mountains and streams and vegetables, had given me even more. It had given me this tree. One lone tree, the only one in the whole cornfield, and I had managed to slam into it, instead of flipping my car over and over the dirt. Even 3 feet before or after would have allowed me to miss it. But I didn't. I hit the tree and I lived. The tree could take the hit. My car couldn't. I can't help feeling like the tree sacrificed itself to save me.

I loved my car. It had lasted me 8 faithful years of service. I never spent more than $500 dollars at a time on it in repairs, and even then, not until it was 10 years old. Now I have no way to get to work, and Brad hasn't owned a car since I've known him. It's difficult, especially now that we live in the country and can't take public transportation anymore. Mom and Dad have to schedule their lives around helping me get to work now. It doesn't seem like this could be a positive situation. But sometimes things happen to us that seem really awful. You can't imagine what good could come of it. Yet the beauty of the situation is that I don't know what will happen. I believe that my car is gone for a reason. I don't know what the reason is. I don't pretend to understand. But I think we can all think back on a time when something happened to us that we didn't fully understand, yet the results changed our lives forever and we're so happy they happened. We can't imagine our lives without that event.

Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't had the accident at all? I may have been in a different one that was entirely worse. Maybe it would have died on me in some unpredictable way on a much busier street, where other lives may have been at stake. We don't know what tragedies we're saved from, daily. We don't know how many times our lives would have been taken, if we had done something two seconds earlier, or not left the house when we did, or not have crashed our car. It was time to say goodbye to her. I survived, with only a few bruises and just one day of an insanely sore neck. My shock is wearing off. The first few days I was having a really hard time dealing with the thought of just driving down the road, the same as I do every single night, and within a minute, my whole life was changed. How did I not realize how suddenly your life could be taken? How could I have taken so much for granted? The only thing I still struggle with now is driving. I do, still, but it's not easy for me. I'm constantly terrified the oncoming traffic is going to hit the car I'm in. I imagine these effects will wear off. I'll learn how to drive again. I live. I'm alive. This is what we do. We pick up the pieces and keep going.

It's amazing how a tragedy can open your eyes in a way you didn't even know you were blind to. When I was able to let go and let the accident happen, after realizing I wasn't in control, it was a lesson I needed to be reminded of. It's happening. Everyday is happening around us. We don't have control of anything. Let go and let it happen. I don't have a car anymore. But there's something else ahead and it'll come. So this blog is a tribute. Not to my car, Giselle, whom I will miss very dearly, but to the tree. To the tree that deemed me worthy of living, and to the unknown happiness yet to come. I thank you for this opportunity to live.