The Feather, the Brick, and the Mack Truck

Last night I almost hit a husband and wife who were out walking their dog when I was driving home from the grocery store.

I was less than a mile away from my house, driving too fast, and talking to my brother on the phone.

I didn’t have my phone in my hands, but I was still distracted.

It was a terrifying near miss that could have altered the course of many, many lives, and it took me a long time to stop obsessively thinking about all the different ways it could have gone.

I was overcome with catastrophic thoughts that I couldn’t stop creating, and I was plagued with guilt after not pulling over my car immediately and making sure the couple was okay, because I had definitely rattled them.

I was ashamed and embarrassed.

I took a shower and tried to literally wash away what had just happened, but a shower wasn’t strong enough to do that.

I got back in my car and drove to the area where I’d just had the closest call of my life. Maybe I’d see the couple and be able to apologize, but they were nowhere to be seen, and while I knew they lived somewhere in the area, I didn’t know where.

After I got home I thought about the parable of the feather, the brick and the Mack truck.

Life sends us signals and messages all the time.

They first start out a feather, slowly brushing past us. We are usually too preoccupied to notice or really pay attention.

When we ignore the feathers, life levels up to a brick. She launches it through your living room window.

HELLOOOO? she says. 

The brick is a stronger warning than the feather. It’s begging you to pay attention. 

Most of us ignore the inconvenience of the brick being thrown through our living room window and the jolt it gives us.

That’s when life is like, “It’s time to bring in the Mack truck.”

It’s hard to ignore being run over by a Mack truck. That does some serious and irreversible damage.

A couple weeks ago I got pulled over on my way to bring Gretchen to swim practice. It was early on a Saturday morning, and I rolled through a stop sign.

Nobody was on the road. Well, except for the cop who pulled up behind me within seconds.

He gave me a verbal warning.

I brushed it off. Like a feather.

Life wasn’t happy about that.

Last night’s near catastrophic miss was a massive brick launched through my living room window. 

NEXT TIME THERE WON’T BE A NEXT TIME, it said to me.

Next time will be the unforgiving Mack truck.

I heard the message loud and clear.

But still, after this reflection, I didn’t feel much better.

I lost a lot of sleep last night obsessing over what could have happened. 

How I could have altered – and ended – the lives of multiple people. 

The husband and wife, their family and friends, my kids, my swimmers, my brother, my parents…

Hundreds of lives would have been permanently affected.

I couldn’t stop thinking about not only that, but about how I had terrified the husband and wife and then just avoided accountability.

I’ve seen them walking their dog before, and I knew I would see them again.

I was consumed with remorse and shame.

Today on my way to swim practice I saw the husband walking toward me with his dog about a quarter mile down the road.

He saw my car, and as I got closer to him, he kept his head down and avoided eye contact.

I stopped the car and rolled down my window.

I had played out this conversation in my head a hundred times in the last twenty hours. I thought about making up a story for why I was driving so irresponsibly in an effort to gain some forgiveness.

But I knew that would only prolong my guilt.

He stopped walking and looked at me with understandable hesitation and anger in his eyes.

“Are you the person I almost hit last night?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I am so so sorry,” I said to him.

I started crying, the anxiety and panic and guilt came pouring out of me and I couldn’t control it.

“I was driving too fast, I wasn’t paying attention, I was distracted, and I feel so horrible for doing that to you and scaring you. I am so sorry.”

“That’s the third time that has happened to us on this road,” he said to me.

“It was a really big wake up call for me, and it was super irresponsible. I am so so sorry for scaring you like that.”

And you know what he did?

He told me my apology meant a lot.

Then he smiled at me, and he thanked me.

Message received loud and clear, Universe.

No Mack truck will be necessary.

(And maybe this is your feather… don’t ignore it like I ignored mine.)