I was in control. . . wasn't I?

My first real job had me traveling all over Northern Utah.  It wasn't uncommon to spend the whole of the work day in my car endlessly driving from appointment to appointment.  Occasionally, my work took me to Logan which was nice in the summer- a cool drive through the canyon, green everywhere, and lots of drive time. In the winter, it was a different story, I was too stupid to be scared to drive the canyon after a snow storm, I think I operated under the assumption that if the roads were plowed and I didn't drive too fast I would be OK.

One morning after a particularly heavy snow storm, I was on my way to Logan to do some work.  The plows must have been working all night because the roads were clear and I wasn't paying too much attention to the road.  As I was making the final ascent up the pass before the road started dropping into Cache Valley, I found myself in exactly the predicament I would have been nervous about had I been just a little wiser.  I was approaching a significant turn in the road, snow had blown from the roadside onto the road in the shadow of an adjacent hill.  In short, the road was covered in ice for a significant stretch and I was going way too fast.

Remembering some words of wisdom about winter driving, I took my foot off the gas and relaxed my grip on the steering wheel- without breaking or over-correcting I would maintain enough control to slow down, right?  Wrong.  I felt the car start to slip on the ice, I was drifting into oncoming traffic.  I gently pumped the breaks and ever-so-gently corrected the steering wheel.  At that point, what was there to lose, either I risked it in oncoming traffic or I took my chances in my intended lane of travel.  I started to drift away from oncoming traffic.  While this was a relief, my car's increasingly sideways orientation was not.  I started to swerve into my original lanes of travel as the backside of the car swung around the front.  As I crossed the outer lanes of traffic (the car was backwards at this point and still traveling fast) I saw a large black truck headed right for me.

In my mind I saw the impact- it was going to be right in the driver's side door.  I could imagine the intense pain followed by the numbness of shock or death and I was trying to prepare myself for the shock as my car slid completely perpendicular to the black truck.  Fortunately, the back of my car still had some rotation momentum and my car continued to slide out of the way in just enough time for the big truck to pass me without incident.

Unfortunately, it was not time to be relieved yet, I had the cement barrier on the side of the road to deal with.    I was still sliding fast enough that impact would have done serious damage to me and my car.  At that point I remember thinking: "What is there to lose now- if I do nothing I know I'm going to hit the barrier."  I stomped on my brake with both feet while I pulled the emergency break hoping that somehow my car would at least slow down enough to hit the barrier more softly than it was intending to before my intervention.

I was relieved when within a second or two I came to a halting stop in the shoulder, my car facing the wrong direction.  I looked over my shoulder and the cement barrier was inches away from my bumper.

Until recently in the retelling of this story, I pointed out my quick thinking, control, and luck.  In my work I talk to people frequently about moments in their lives where they had no control.  I frequently hear a sentiment along the lines of "That was bad, but I wasn't out of control, I stopped before it got as bad as it could have."  I realize my own denial in my previous telling of this story- as soon as I was on the ice, I had no control.  Just because I didn't crash into an oncoming car, get plowed by a huge truck, or slam into a cement barrier does not indicate that I had control.

As I have been reflecting on this experience, it has struck me that by not acknowledging my powerlessness I didn't have the capability of recognizing the gratitude I owe to God (insert providence, grace, karma, etc. if you wish) for that out of control situation not ending in serious injury.  Powerlessness opens the door to vulnerability which makes it possible to connect with the bigger picture.  Self-assuredness and denial keep us trapped in our narrative without recognizing that it has meaning.