I found what I thought was just the car for me at a dealership in Oklahoma City (A beautiful shade of red). I test drove the car, and although there were little things that bothered me about the car and the dealer, I decided to buy it. The little things: a windshield wiper missing on the driver's side, scratches in the paint, and the cargo carrier that came standard with Honda CRVs was missing. I discussed these things with the manager, whose demeanor immediately made my inner psyhic hair stand on end. He was brisk, unfriendly, and gave off coldness. Still, I needed a car, and fast. They replaced the windshield wiper, covered one scratch. I compromised on the cargo carrier and bought the car.
At just the "right" spot--one of only 3 exits between the dealership and my home--the power steering went out. I was barely able to slowly pull the car into a gas station at one of these exits. I called the dealership. The sales manager agreed to send a tow truck to pick up the car at what was now the dark hour of 7:30 p.m. That was the extent of his "courtesy." No offer on another car, no loaner vehicle to drive home, nothing but a look of relief on his face when I returned to the dealership. I could not tell if the relief was for himself or for me. Fortunately, a dear friend had gone with me to buy the car, and he drove me back home. I have no idea what I would have done otherwise.
A few minutes--no, seconds--either way, a different, sharp-turn exit on the highway, the car certainly would have flipped, been hit by someone behind me, or my car would have hit someone in front of me. Either way, I would have: been killed or, given my medical history, been disabled for life. And, the same could have happened to any unsuspecting soul driving near my disabled car.
The messages, I believe, are these:
My prayer for a safe journey home, whispered in an Oklahoma City parking lot, was heard and answered.
The signs were there in advance that something about the transaction was wrong. I was wrong to let my logic override the signs.
What we want is never more important than the quiet whisper or urge within that guides. What we want is never more right, safe, or true than what this inner voice shares with us, especially when we have asked for our inner voice to be connected to the divine.
Life hangs by that single hair holding the mythological sword of Damocles. Moments, perhaps just one moment, stood between me and the end of my life. On a beautiful October day.
I encourage you to read the post I wrote after hearing actor Glenn Morshower speak about our inner "audibles." Grief is inevitable, but it can also sometimes be avoidable... especially when we listen to that special voice with no sound.
Grateful to be here. Grateful to share this blog space with all of you. Soon, more great writing to come from JD DeHart, Tasha Raella and Rejeanne Davis. Stay tuned! Be grateful. Listen to your inner voice.