Detours Can Be Tiny Miracles

We left Thanksgiving dinner at dusk. I love it here at the acreage where my stepson and daughter-in-law live with our beautiful grandson. Idyllic fields and thick standings of deciduous trees surround it. Leaf-strewn country roads connect the blacktop to their house nestled atop a small mountain. We decided I would drive home because Big Daddy had enjoyed a couple of Jägermeister and Dr. Peppers my daughter-in-law’s father made him. The four of us didn’t get far before I remembered what had been forgotten. Between the grassy, leaf-covered ditches, I turned the car around. Where I grew up, we call this Whipping a U-ey, but in Saskatchewan, they call it Hacking a Ringer, which I prefer. With the surreal light of dusk at our backs, we headed the way we came.

After retrieving my forgotten purse, we left for home a second time. As the tires on the SUV scattered the leaves like confetti, I noticed the visibility seemed skewed in the light of the sunset. I thought Dusk is the most dangerous time to drive. In fact, most car accidents occur at dusk and dawn. This was my actual thought. I must have memorized someone else’s words of warning. Driving more cautiously than usual, I wondered at the way the waning sun transformed the skyline of trees and fields into indistinguishable shadow. The sky was alit with colours like only an Alberta sunset can afford.

Maneuvering our way west, then south, the truck we had been following on the pavement hit the brakes, red taillights flashing. I slowed immediately. As we crept along behind the truck on the quiet highway, we saw the mangled remains of a motorcycle in the ditch. There were people up ahead, and two more bikes stopped on the side of the road. Big Daddy pointed out that the front of the bike had skewered a deer, and now the two lay as one on the grassy bank. Teagan piped up from the back seat, “I see the deer’s head, Mom, it’s waaaay over there!” A man in leather gear holding a cell phone walked up to the window of the truck in front of us. Behind him, we saw the rider in the ditch writhing in pain. My heart stopped. The collision must have happened just moments before we arrived. The biker with the phone came to our vehicle as we lowered the window, asking what we could do to help. Ric, A.K.A. Big Daddy, asked if the man in the ditch was okay and said that he knew first aid. The biker was on with 911 and asked us which highway we were on. I flipped on my nav and read the highway number to him. He thanked us and said they had it under control, that he and the other uninjured man were also first aiders.

Slowly, we passed by the scene. I felt a pang in my chest for the man in the ditch, especially seeing how far he was from where his bike lay. While we had kids that needed to get ready for school the next day, I still wished I could do more. As we crawled past another vehicle on the shoulder that had stopped to help, we saw where the initial impact was. At least fifty feet past the man in the ditch, the highway was smeared in blood and pieces of deer. We realized the bikers had been in the oncoming lane when the deer erupted from the grassy field to cross the highway in front of them. We were stunned in horror at the seriousness of the accident. “We should all pray for that man,” I said aloud, and so we did.

As I was lying in bed that night, groggy from the delicious turkey dinner, it hit me. We had come upon that accident only minutes after it happened. We had only gotten a couple of minutes down the road when we had to turn around and go back. If we hadn’t returned for my purse, that man may have careened straight into the front of our vehicle. Who knows what more injuries he would have sustained? What if he didn’t survive the impact? Those of us in the car could have been hurt. Or worse. A shiver enveloped my body. That was a close one, I thought, as I thanked the universe for the delay and drifted off to sleep.

Sometimes bad things happen to avoid worse. Obstacles in your path can keep you from being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. A door closing in your face might be exactly what you need to reroute and go down the better road instead. Detours can be tiny miracles. Delays can be the difference between life and death. This understanding I’ve gained through many near misses of my own. Acknowledging my own ignorance. Accepting that my puny human brain is not able to comprehend the enormity and wisdom with which the universe protects me. It’s afforded me a patience I did not possess prior. I was like anyone. Getting pissed off when construction made me late for work. Or when a project didn’t go as I had envisioned. Or when someone walked out of my life that I thought I wanted there. To walk the distance between angst and acceptance requires faith. My advice to you is to find gratitude for even the most disruptive detours in your life. You simply may not be able to see why you need it. Instead, follow the flow. It just might know something you don’t.

~Leah Marguerite