St. Christopher is the patron saint of travel.
Remember yesterday when I wrote about death being one less headache? And that Lorenzo Lamas made life worth living?
Well, you know what else makes life worth living? Not being smooshed to smithereens on the freeway. Because last night, I nearly got smooshed to smithereens on the freeway.
My car died going up the mountain during an extremely rushed rush hour on the freeway. It was dark. I pulled over to the shoulder BUT THERE WAS NO SHOULDER because there was construction. There was a temporary cement wall where the shoulder should have been. I was stuck in a lane. Cars were whizzing by, going around as best they could and scaring the bageezus out of me.
I picked up the phone and dialed 911. This was, in fact, an emergency situation. If my car died on a side street, I wouldn’t be calling 911. But I was on the super speedy 405 freeway just after a bend in the road. It was more than just problematic. It was actually life threatening. So I called 911 and didn’t get a busy signal. That was the first sign that an angel was on the job. Then more angels appeared…
The first angel was one of the construction guys who ran over and told me to get out of the car on the passenger side and climb over the wall because it was safer than being a sitting duck in traffic. Normally you stay in the car because it’s safer, but in this case, it wasn’t safer. He helped me over the wall and stayed with me until the second angel arrived…
A policeman came and stopped all traffic on the freeway to help out the third angel who arrived at the same time…
The AAA guy, my highway hero, quickly hauled my car up on his flatbed and helped me back over the cement wall. Then we drove off with nary a scratch to meet up with my fourth angel…
My friend who said I could borrow his extra car for the next few days while mine was in the shop.
Then my other friend, the fifth angel, sent me to his super great mechanic who is fair and good.
Thinking back to that moment on the freeway, I can’t remember being more scared then I was in those few minutes. And inside those few minutes, I was met with a congregation of angels.
Honestly… I could have died.
And I’m not even being overly dramatic.
To have died coming home from work?!?!? That would have been tragic. I mean, dying itself is tragic but dying coming home from Office Town is extra tragic. Exponentially tragic.
Upon reflection, I think it was God telling me to take care of the business I’d been putting off. I had meant to take my car in and had delayed the task for one reason or another. Now it’s sitting in the shop being souped up for the next leg of my journey. Speaking of…
I’ve also been meaning to take care of a few other big things, which you’ll read all about soon enough. Stay tuned.
The message was clear: Take care of it sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, just to be safe, I’m wearing both my St. Christopher’s medals.