Here’s what my bi-weekly commute sort of looks and sounds like:
7:30 a.m. Wake up. Ew, what? Made some throat coat tea. Fell back asleep.
9:06 a.m. Left a weensy bit later than I should have for the office. The 10 looks a little dicey and then is GOLDEN.
9:40 a.m. It usually takes me 10 minutes to even get onto the bit of the 5 I take (TWO exits, I don’t need to merge people!!), but today, oddly it only took me 5 to get on and off. L.A.! We got this.
9:45 a.m. The office’s street requires me to make a left turn. As soon as I pull up, oncoming traffic has cleared and I can immediately make that left. BOOM. I look back and see glass. A black SUV was t-boned and I don’t see the other car. Spill to my boss about how weird God’s grace is. ~werk, werk~
2:16 p.m. Leaving the office. A little late (SURPRISE), but early enough to get back to school on time. Hear of scary break-in story and I can only pray one day I’ll have the courage and authority one lady friend had to command the intruder to leave.
2:55? p.m. I’m always a little indecisive (no, I totally favor the 57) between taking the 10 exit or the 57 exit to get to school. The 57 runs by a beloved coffee shop and carries the sentiments of car rides with my daddy so I can deal without the curves of the Fairplex. As I passively choose the usual and exit for the 57, 6 cop cars race down the 10 with lights on and sirens blaring. I think at least 4 were SUVs. The leader of the pack is WAY close to a silver sedan that must have not decided soon enough to get out of the way, and I have no idea what I would have done.
3:04 p.m. In the clear! Won’t be late (haha). Right as I pass from one town into mine, 4 MORE cop cars blast down the road the way I’ve come, sirens and lights on. One more siren starts, and I see a regular beige sedan light up red and blue. And I wonder if only kids who read Nancy Drew think of the word “plainclothes men” to this day. People closer to my age now call them narcs, huh?
Helicopters floated above Cal Poly Pomona that afternoon and had been over the city in the morning.
I’m hesitant to say how ordained God’s provision of safety was for me. I know it was perfectly and intentionally in order. It’s just so strange that others should be so much closer in the fray. I guess I think that a lot of the time for a variety of circumstances, and it’s a blessing to be known as His creation what best should reveal His grace to me.
I don’t know how the rest of this week will go, being the last week of school before finals and all. Part of me doesn’t get why we have this one, and part of me has no present notion of regarding the chapter that’s passing. More that there is no notion of mourning the impending sweep of the curtain. Which for a stalagmite like myself in regards to change, is a sweet praise for growth. In 7th grade I was the only kid to think I would miss my locker neighbors, my arrangement of classes and the orientation of my friend group.
I always have to make everything about loyalty, even when it isn’t necessarily the point. It falters on a legalism that gives no assumption to God’s greater treasures and boundless, creative, individual love for me, outlined in scripture, from my spiritual rescue to attentiveness to the desires I don’t even realize in my heart.
Two-thousand and fourteen was the first year I gladly left behind. But as a student I think the school years more formatively set the latitude and longitude of our sense of time.
Two more weeks. He’s speaking. I’m listening. I’m ready for greater trust and surprises that glorify Him.