The Crossroad

At least I had the presence of mind to turn on the windshield wipers . . .

Every day, multiple times a day, I come to a crossroad.

Tomorrow is the three year anniversary of one of those chance crossroad experiences. About 1 p.m. on May 24, 2010, I was a few blocks from my house and headed to the downtown post office. Something happened.

I’ve written about the experience before, so I won’t waste anybody’s time rehashing the details. Suffice it to say that I was in a major car accident. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured. My take-away was a small air-bag burn on my hand and a concussion that wiped away all memories of the incident and the hours that followed.

The intersection in question is a dangerous one. For some time following the accident, I had trouble forcing myself to drive down that street. No physical signs were left behind except for a scratch in the concrete curb where my car slid to a stop. I wasn’t really afraid of the spot. But I did panic sometimes because I was passing by a place where something momentous happened . . .

And I couldn’t remember.

give wayI’m wondering now about how many crossroads I’ve come to in my life, made a decision to turn or stay my course, and now have no recollection of what happened . . . or why . . . or how my decision immediately impacted my life.

God often gives us a marker of some kind for those life-changing moments. In days of old, he told his people to stack rocks by the path. Or he put a rainbow in the sky. Or imprinted a story of heroic dimensions so deep that it has been told over and over through the generations. God encourages us to leave markers that remind us to tell the stories.

Many of the crossroads I’ve come to have no visible markers. Some have markers I’m not proud of.

In the intersections ahead of me, I hope that I can leave signs that tell a story of how blessed I have been — even when I’ve made a wrong turn or when the actions of others have thrown me off course.

I hope I can remember that, regardless of the circumstance, God is always there, handing me another marker to tell my story. His story in my life.

 

Photo Credit: Creative Commons/fabbio