Have you ever had an experience in your life where you thought "This is it, my life is about to come to an end"? They're terrifying aren't they? I've had a few of those experiences myself. Back when I was a senior in high school, I was in the AP calculus class which required us to do these giant projects that took literally weeks to finish--and that's if you were diligent. I, however, was not. I was juggling school, athletics, our choir ensemble, and a personal life. (Still amazes me to this day that I did all of that.) The night before this giant calculus project was due, I was up until 3am working to finish it. No more than two hours later, I was up again getting ready to head to school, completed project in hand. My brother and I pile into the car with our belongings--backpacks, duffle bags, you name it. We of course are running late and I decide to speed to try to make up some time. Speeding through the back roads of Thompson, I'm tailgating the person in front of us, hoping they will let us pass. I look down to change the radio as I dictate a text for my brother to type out. Suddenly, my heart sinks when I hear my brother call out "T!" I look up to see break lights quickly approaching the front of my car. I slam on the breaks. Antilock breaks kick in. Tires squealing. My hands gripping the steering wheel with all of my might. It's not enough. I collide with this car at about 45 miles per hour (on a back road with a speed limit of 30). Airbags deploy and everything falls silent - so silent I think I am dead for at least 30 seconds. I'm in a trance, hardly able to comprehend what just happened. My head is in a fog - until I remember I'm not the only one in the car. I look over to my brother who had some scrapes and burns on his face from the airbag. I jump into panic mode. He's in shock. His face white and scared. "Are you okay?" I ask. "I, I think so." he responds. I take his hand and the only words that can come are "I'm sorry." I then turn to see the damage to my car. The hood is crushed up against the windshield, rendering it hard to see, but we jump out of the car the moment we see people emerge from the other car. They were hit so hard their car was sent spinning into a tree and it was so old that they didn't have airbags in the car. I see a man come out first and he looks panicked. He rushes to the other side of the car and gets his wife out of the car. It was then I notice the biggest problem: she's pregnant. My heart sunk. I almost threw up. He starts yelling at me, shouting again and again that she's pregnant. It's all too much. I start to sob in the middle of the road, my face is in my hands, my shoulders caving in on me, tears streaming, stomach in knots, knees about to buckle. The neighbor across the street comes rushing over to me and pulls me out of the middle of the road. I'm now sobbing into the shoulder of someone I've never met before and my brother is still as white as a ghost as he listens to this man yell at me.
I can tell you without hesitation that that was the scariest moment of my life. I couldn't see break lights without my stomach dropping and my heart racing for at least the next year of my life. To this day, I still get nervous when I see them, but not nearly as bad as I used to be. You know how everyone always says your life flashes before your eyes before a near death experience? I don't even remember if that happened to me to be honest. I couldn't remember what I thought about the moment those break lights came into sight. But, I can tell you, it made me so incredibly grateful to be alive. For a long time, I was in a place where I knew I needed to make the most of my life because no moment is ever guaranteed. But that quickly faded when I got to college and I put that car accident behind me. It wasn't until senior year of college that I again had a near death experience--this one not nearly as bad, but it had an even bigger impact on my life. It was during my semester abroad. Bridget and I were coming back from the Outback and we were on our connecting flight to Adelaide. We were talking about and reflecting on our trip when we start to feel turbulence. We think nothing of it. We had both flown enough to know this was normal. The turbulence continues, progressively getting worse. The plane is shaking aggressively and I can see people getting nervous. We look at each other and stop. "This is it," I thought, "I've had a good run." We hang on to the arm rests and grab each other's hand. I'm shaking. Our skin is becoming pale as we grip each other's fingers tighter and tighter with each bump in the flight. The plane starts doing drops in altitude and my stomach begins to make its way to my throat. I start to tear up. "I never got to say goodbye," I thought. I thought about my family who, at the time, was sound asleep looking forward to hearing about my adventures when they awoke. I thought about my friends back home who had no idea I was even traveling. I thought about the friends I had just made who were becoming like family to me. I thought about the guy I was seeing during my time there, remembering the last kiss we had before I got out of the car at the airport. And then I went blank. My mind stopped thinking all together. It was a blank page. I was numb. It's important to note where my heart was during that time of my life. I wasn't in a good place in my relationship with God. During this flight, unlike during my car crash, death terrified me. I wondered if I would make it to Heaven. If I had done enough good during my short 21 years of life. My theology had been tested, shaken, and stirred during my time abroad. I did and said things I never would have if I hadn't let the testing break me. But, despite all of that, despite wondering, questioning, and doubting what I had been walking in for 3 years, I knew all I could do was pray. I looked up to the ceiling of the plane and said a silent prayer, an apology for what I had done, a plea for just one more chance at life. Do you know how powerful it is to say prayers that simple? Do you know how much God loves it when we turn to Him in times of fear or pain - even joy? I never realized it until I finished my prayer. Peace rushed over me like the sweetest, purest water. And just like that, the turbulence subsided. I'm not kidding guys. You never realize what you have until it's gone. But do you realize, how important that statement is when it comes to your life? When we die, we don't even get to realize what we had. We no longer have a beating heart or a working mind to reflect. But on our death bed, as we are surrounded by our loved ones, we think back to the times we said "I'll do it tomorrow/next week/next month/next year." We think back to the moments we wish we had told people we loved them. We remember that list of adventures we always wanted to take. It's all too much, too soon, too much emotion. But we're dying. There's no time left. I know this is somber. Probably the most somber post I will ever write. Death is not something we like to talk about in our culture. We fear it. No doubt, it is scary. We leave everything behind and enter a world completely unknown--whatever that may be. But I think the moment we start to understand that we are not guaranteed any moment other than right this second, we start to be more aware of what we do and accomplish with our lives. When we realize that we may not have tomorrow, we stop putting off what can be done today for the next day. It's so important that we start to see death for all it's worth. I think instead of letting it terrify us, we need to let it motivate us. You know that person you've always wanted to talk to, but were too shy to reach out? Do it, confidently. You know that trip you've always wanted to take? Go. (Flights are pretty cheap these days--just saying.) You know that dream job you've always wanted? Apply for it. Give it a shot. Don't know where to find that dream job? Make it for yourself. Start a business. Make a difference. Go. Do. Life is short my friends. Please understand that. It's currently 6:10am. I'm sitting on a flight to Chicago, sipping coffee, heading to a conference about making my life a better story. I should be sleeping, but my mind is racing, thinking about all the lessons I can learn from this conference, reflecting. Even before I decided to go to this conference, I knew I wanted my life to be different. I knew I wanted there to be excitement in the mundane, I knew I wanted to feel like I was fulfilling a purpose, not just taking up precious air and space. But, we all crave that, don't we? Life is too short to want anything different.
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December 2016
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