The Randomness of Life

I live an hour from my job, so getting there means putting in around 100 miles a day, both ways. Though I hated being a commuter at first, now almost 12 years into it I've grown to grudgingly accept it. It's just a regular part of the work day. And I can’t really c0mplain too much because having a commute means, having a job.  Plus I've got a lightweight, gas-friendly vehicle.  And some weekday road warriors have to travel even farther than I do. So, all things considered, commuting is a good thing.

The routine and route each day are both about the same. Departure time is generally around 8. It takes about ten minutes to get from the house to State Route 49. Heading south on 49, twenty minutes later I'm in Auburn where I hang a left at Bell Road and cut over to Interstate 80. As the freeway drains down the hill into the sprawling Sacramento Valley, I mix in with all the other westbound commuters until I get to Rocklin. There I merge off I-80 onto Highway 65 north and continue to the Blue Oaks exit. A few traffic lights later, I'm sitting in the parking lot of my work place, 48 miles and 60 minutes, give or take, after backing out of our garage warriors have to travel even farther than I do. So, all things considered, commuting is a good thing.

And over the years I’ve learned to put this motorized hour of solitude to good use, at least during the morning drive. I clear my head, think, plan and even pray for the day ahead. And listen to goofballs Armstrong and Getty on Talk 650, KSTE in Sac. Those guys are pretty funny. However the evening run's a different story. Going in the other direction at the end of a long and, or, demanding day, I just want to get off the road, out of the car and get home.

But it's like this, five days a week, more or less. More if required to work on a weekend, less on days off or holidays. Either way, one thing never changes- the trip itself is at the zenith of dull. The scenery’s always the same, the drives' consistent monotony, a constant. I could do it in my sleep, and some mornings wish I could. But a few days ago, I got a little reminder that nothing I do in life should ever be taken for granted.

I was on the in-bound (morning) commute, cruising in the center lane of I-80 and roughly two thirds of the way to the office. The weather was clear and traffic was moving along at a pretty steady tempo. Armstrong and Getty were in the middle of a long block of commercials so I’d kind of checked out, and on the chilly late November morning, with the heater pumping out a mixture of warm air and white noise, I was kind of in a zone.

About a half mile before the Sierra College Blvd off ramp, I began gaining ground on a slower moving white mini-van and, annoyed at its leisurely pace, decided a change of lanes was in order. I took a half hearted cursory peek to my left and, without signaling, made my move. On first glance, the fast lane had appeared empty and wide open. But upon further review- and I don't know why or how I chose that moment to take a second look because I was already certain I'd have the lane to myself- there in the blind spot lurked a blue Honda Civic. I noticed it was moving faster than me.

However the lady in the Civic didn’t notice me because, already edging into her lane, she made no counter move to slow down or veer away. Fortunately, though, at last second I did, and a collision was averted. But there were no slamming of breaks, honking horns, reactionary counter swerves either.  By the grace of God I'd seen her with just enough time to nudge myself back into the middle lane and we missed each other. Not by much; but we passed unscathed.

Yet the Honda lady just drove on by, as if nothing had happened. When I was able to pull parallel, and separated by the white lines I glanced at her again. From the safety of proper spacing, it appeared she was more concerned with whoever was on the other end of her Blue Tooth than the near fatal miss she and I had just avoided. The lady didn’t glance my way at all and continued driving, apparently without a care in the world.

But we'd both been going 60 plus and had I slid another couple of feet into her lane, it would've been too late. My left bumper would've made contact near her passenger side wheel well which no doubt would've set off a violent collision. With only a solid retainer wall to the Honda's left, and other traffic in tight proximity, there’d  have been no place for either of us to escape. Disaster had been that close and it would've been awful. But it wasn't. Because, for some reason, I took a second look and got a second chance to rectify what could've been a grave wrong of my own doing.

The cars around me kept going and, too afraid to make eye contact in case any of them had seen what I'd almost done, fixed my gaze straight ahead. And when my heart rate returned to normal, I silently thanked God and continued doing so until safely stopped and parked at work. But I didn't go right in. For a few minutes I sat in the office parking lot in silence, and in scaled down shock and awe, wondered what just happened.

Why was I still in one piece and not in an ambulance?

What made me think to take another look to my left before fully committing to the lane change? 

Why did I choose that particular moment to change lanes anyway? It's not like I was late or in a hurry.

What if I'd left the house even just one minute later or earlier? That blue Honda would've already been gone or much farther back. We might not ever have crossed paths- literally. 

Was it just not my turn to die?

Or maybe it just wasn’t the other driver's day to be maimed and I merely got caught in the fortunate fallout.

So many arbitrary and minute details going on around us at any time, at anyplace, every day we're alive and we don't even think about them. But they all have to come together- or not- at just the right moment in history to make an event either happen or not happen. For good or not so good. So how does all that work? Who plans it out and puts all those things together and in just the perfect order and sequence?  Fate? Luck? Chance? Destiny? Kismet?  

Maybe. Maybe I should've gone out and bought a lottery ticket, too. But strip all the veneer of guess work away and I believe it simply just comes down to God. A God, not just at work in the big things and not just at work in the little things, either. But at work in everything, right down to the tiniest of life’s details; and sometimes to simply keep the little things from ever becoming big things.

But in all things, like on that ordinary Wednesday morning on I-80, God continues to watch over me extraordinarily. And sometimes, in reflection, you can even catch a glimpse and see it for yourself. Other times, you just never know. Like the lady in the blue Honda Civic. So, thank you God. From both of us.