I believe there are no coincidences. In the words of Merrill Hess, “I’m a miracle man.” except I’m a woman.
I’m sitting in my truck in the driveway, supposed to have left 20 minutes ago, because the brakes are out. I’m forced to take the day off.
Each time I come upon a wreck on the road, maybe one that happened just moments before my arrival, I think what would have happened if I had raced that light or not gone back in the house for the third time to get or do whatever it was that I forgot to get or do. I think about how that car in the ditch could have been my passenger and me.
I once told my dad that I should have died a thousand times during high school. I didn’t explain myself. He told me, without questioning or judging, that I lived because I had an unfulfilled purpose. I have lived by that since.
So I wonder, as I sit here in this broken truck in the driveway, what has this expensive disruption saved me from?