My brother called last week to say: “I heard you were in an accident.” How did he know that so soon? I guess standing on Division Street in a Roman collar with hundreds of cars going by means the word gets around.
Since the story is making the rounds, I’ll give my first-hand version. I was on my way to the Priest Personnel Board meeting at the Chancery, and in a relative rarity, actually going to be ten minutes early. Two lanes of traffic stopped at the red light on Division near Rivers Edge Convention Center didn’t trouble me, as I was alone in the left-turn lane and heading towards the light. You know how this is – out of the corner of my eye I see the front fender of an Explorer coming from the right. Time slows way down and the strangest thoughts calmly come to mind. “I wonder how this is going to feel.” “I don’t think this will be good; physics tells us two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.” “Often I can stop in time for a near miss. This won’t be one of those times.”
Wham. It felt softer than I expected. I was thrown up onto the median but stopped before hitting the sign post and without going into the ongoing traffic. No air bags, no injuries. A little relieved and a little annoyed.
The other driver was concerned and polite as he came to the door. “I am so sorry, Father! Are you hurt?” No, I assured him … and you? “No, I’m fine. I am so sorry, I just didn’t see you.” “Well, accidents happen. We should call law enforcement.” “I am law enforcement.”
As it happened, Rivers Edge was hosting a workshop on traffic safety, Toward Zero Deaths, and there were state troopers, sheriffs and deputies, city police, and more. God has a sense of humor, for sure. That Explorer was an unmarked patrol squad from the Twin Cities metro area.
While waiting for the St. Cloud police and a tow truck, we chatted. He asked me how long I have been ordained, told me about priests he knew growing up, and shared his concern about his daughter who is a fine young person, but doesn’t go to church regularly. He wondered what he could do. So standing on the median on Division, we talked about St. Monica and Augustine, patience, good example, prayer, and how deep our Catholic roots go even if there are periods in life where we wander a bit.
Why does this story make the bulletin?
First, gratitude. There are so many ways this could have been far worse. No one was hurt. Bent sheetmetal and plastic can be replaced. Guardian angels are real, the kindness of strangers can surprise.
Second, compassion. There are so many people for whom life has been far worse: serious accidents with injuries, victims of violence and war, the sick, the abandoned, those who have no family or friends to help. Even a brush with minor misfortune can make us more sensitive to those not so fortunate.
Third, evangelization. This law enforcement professional, who had seen so much human suffering and failure in his 20 years of service, was not jaded or aloof. He was concerned about me, about his family, about his faith. Maybe it was the collar, but it opened a door to talk about what matters deeply to him; and what matters is the people in his life. That says a lot.
Fourth, more gratitude. From the police to the tow truck driver to the passersby to the insurance representatives – people who go about their everyday work helping others in need that perhaps we don’t regularly encounter, but they are there and serving. Think of all the people whose work impacts you every day – farmers, truckers, delivery people, those who make our water and lights and power and roads and information and so much else possible every day. Say thanks, and say a prayer for them.
If I had been five seconds earlier, or five seconds later, it would have been a near miss and forgotten. But that was apparently not God’s plan. We don’t always understand why things happen. But sometimes, they contain lessons we need.
Hoho