Put 'er in Neutral

I wrote this for a Lenten devotional book put out by our church, but I'm posting it here at the request of a friend. I think it has a useful message, regardless of faith tradition, as I think the message is one we can all use once in a while.

Psalm 46: 1-3

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.

* * *I will start this meditation with a short, selfish prayer that my insurance agent either a) does not read this or b) does not consider it as grounds to raise my rates.

In the words of my eldest brother, I have been an “accident happening” since my birth in the midst of a blizzard in 1975.

My mother, a staunch Catholic, was never as blunt as my brother in her assessment of my life-long propensity towards mishap. She did, however, regularly pray, on my behalf, for the intercession of St. Jude (patron saint of hopeless and desperate cases), St. Christopher (patron saint of safe travel), and St. Anthony (patron saint of lost articles).

“Child of Grace,” my mother would often intone, “I don’t know how you always get yourself into these situations, but you always seem to come out smelling like a rose. You must have an entire army of guardian angels working your case.”

As I made the transition to Lutheranism in my college years, my mother’s term of endearment took on new meaning.

Children of Grace, indeed. Aren’t we all?

With a lifetime of minor accidents and mishaps as a reference, I can confidently proclaim that the grace and love of Christ has been with me in both the best and worst of times.

The worst of those times are, for me, like they are for so many others, often too difficult to write about or speak of. They are, surely, times when God’s love has been present and powerful in my life. They are not, however, the subject of this meditation.

What strikes me about God’s love and grace in this Lenten season, is the way in which it is with us not only in our times of greatest trial and distress, but also at those times when we have simply done something stupid or gotten ourselves into a sticky situation with no clear exit strategy.

The following story is one brief example of God’s love and grace at work in my life.

It was late November of 2004. Mike and I were living in Duluth, MN with two-year-old Ethan. We both had full-time, demanding jobs, and I was also taking several night courses to complete a master’s degree at the University of Wisconsin-Superior. Life was so hectic that I found myself forgetting the “little things” quite often.

The “little things” such as putting gas in the car, for example.

So it was that I found myself in my gas-less car, in the fast lane, during rush hour, stranded at the top of the “high bridge” over the bay between Duluth, MN, and Superior, WI, in the middle of the first big snow storm of the season. The high winds raged, shaking my car. Icy pellets of freezing rain pelted my motionless car, as rightfully frustrated drivers whizzed by in the right lane, honking and making rude gestures.

I sat in my car with no idea what to do. I considered my options. I could get out of the car on the driver’s side, and be blown to a hypothermic, drowning death in the churning waters of Lake Superior. Alternatively, I could get out the passenger’s door, and surely be struck by oncoming traffic on the increasingly slippery bridge. I had no cell phone to call for help.

The only thing I could think to do was offer up a quick prayer. I closed my eyes and silently prayed: “Dear God. I know I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, and this is clearly one of them. I have no idea how you’re going to get me out of this, but, based on lots of previous experience, I’m confident you can figure it out. Please help.”

When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see the windblown, frozen-cheeked face of a scraggly-bearded man. His truck was immediately behind my car on the bridge, and he had crawled, precariously, along the bridge wall and was knocking at my window. I opened the window a crack, thinking to myself, “I really hope he doesn’t have a gun.”

“Put her in neutral,” the man bellowed, “I got a push bumper. I’ll get you to the other side.”

So I did.

And he did.

And a few minutes later my car was sitting in a yellow “safe zone” across the street from a gas station on the Superior side of the high bridge.

Now, it would be entirely fitting if the story ended here, but this was clearly a night for putting God’s grace and love in the midst of my own stupidity to the test.

I decided to make a run for some gas. I put on the hazard lights and ran for the station. I bought a gas can and couple of gallons of ethanol blend. By the time I returned to my car, the police had shown up, and they were not happy.

“Why did you abandon the vehicle?” the officer asked.

“Uh, I just ran to get some gas.”

“Alright, then, get it into the car, and let’s get this thing off the road.”

I fumbled for my keys to open the driver’s side door and release the gas tank door.

No keys.

Anywhere.

I went for the car door.

Locked.

With my keys inside.

So, there I was, with my gas-less, keys-locked-inside car, facing two police officers in the center of four lanes of rush hour traffic.

“Uh, God . . . just one more favor??”

In the end, the police officers both took pity on me. They offered to call a towing service and even convinced the tow-truck man not to charge me the standard rate. My car was towed two blocks to the nearest service station, and the tow-truck man opened my locked car doors, put the gas in my car, charged me a token ten dollars, and sent me on my way.

So, as I consider, this Lenten season, how the love of God has been present in my life, I think of the thousands of real, everyday people, friends and strangers alike, who have shown me Christ-like love.

The police officers and their sympathy.

The tow-truck man and his charity.

And certainly the scraggly bearded man on the bridge, whose name I never knew and who didn’t stop long enough to take an offering of thanks.

I’ve often recalled the only words this man ever said to me, and I am struck by their simple wisdom in considering how the grace of God can work in our lives, particularly in times of trial.

“Put her in neutral,” he said, “I’ll get you to the other side.”