3 Years After The Accident

some raw feelings about fear

Aug 11, 2023

On August 10, 2020, I got into an accident that was my fault. I was deeply traumatized by my mistake—and subsequent driving experiences in the next year that weren’t my fault—and that driving anxiety went on for nearly two years. Two months after the accident, I wrote some very honest thoughts (below) and I finally feel ready to share them. There was an incredible amount of healing after my crazy brain overanalyzed all the “what ifs.” I’m certainly not a poet, but I wrote it in this format because, my emotions felt too intense for prose.

The Accident
(written October 2020)

I had spent so many moments

Vying for safety

Protecting my five ducklings,

The youngest only a month old.

When they were in the womb,

I avoided paint and Clorox,

Hot dogs with nitrates,

And lifting heavy things.

As babies, I supported their necks

And woke countless times

To make sure their warm little heads

Were still warm,

That air continued from their nostrils.

I avoided daycare and Happy Meals,

Researched vaccines,

Tried five pediatricians,

Got CPR certified,

All to keep them safe.

Then in one moment

We were bringing Chick-Fil-A

To my grandparents, eight minutes from home

And I don’t know what happened

Because I wasn’t talking or turning or speeding

Or even listening to music

But I didn’t notice a red light,

Got hit by a truck,

And all I heard was screams,

The most awful sound ever to curse my ears.

I felt an air bag in my face, glass everywhere,

Gory possibilities

Probabilities

Filling my mind

As I unbuckled and jumped into the backseat.

I prepared myself to miss someone

To feel the emptiness

Of one or many of my ducklings gone.

But they were all okay somehow,

Not a single drop of blood

And their tears ended quickly,

Replaced with brags of adventure.

I didn’t cry

But I now understood

Why people get addicted to escape.

Till then I never got why people drank themselves into oblivion

Because I’d never felt the desperate need to forget anything.

“It’s just stuff”, people told me after.

“At least no one was hurt.”

But what idiot would I have to be to not think:

What if they were?

We were spared by mercy

And a pricey new Honda’s safety features.

But loss was so close,

Life was so fragile,

And it would’ve been my fault.

An accident,

But my fault.

It’s been two months

But I still wake almost every night

To screams,

Nonexistent screams.

I’ve been gifted with imagination

But plagued with pessimism.

Can someone just make me a promise

That my kids will outlive me,

That the most I’ll have to miss them

Is when they go to college

Or move with my grandbabies to a new state?

I know that God is sovereign

I also know that He didn’t spare His own son.

I wish I could control just this small part

Of His plans.

What promise will He make me?

This is the best I found:

Psalm 3

“You, O Lord

Are a shield about me

My glory, and the lifter of my head.”

I’m so embarrassed

About what happened,

What could’ve happened,

What might happen;

But Christ’s honor is mine.

Empty assurance how “God will protect you”

Does nothing

For people who have heard enough stories

Or read enough facts

Because

God lets kids die.

His Son did.

If I would’ve hit a pedestrian

Or a family in a sedan

I would’ve made headlines,

Maybe gone to prison,

For manslaughter.

How could I move on with that kind of shame?

Well.

Christ’s honor would still be mine.

My heart wants different comfort,

That doesn’t require faith and intangible glory,

But this is what I’ve been given,

And it’s enough.

He’s enough.

So there it is. Like I said, my heart wanted (and wants) a different comfort. I was deeply bothered by my mistake because I took every precaution yet it still happened; I remember consciously thinking, “I’m not going to play music or take a sip of water because I don’t want to be a distracted driver” about two minutes before I ran the red light. My thought process for months afterward: if there’s nothing I could do differently next time, there’s an unfixable problem and it’s my brain. I couldn’t numb myself from these thoughts and had to deal with them.

I concluded this: since we don’t live in a world where we get to manipulate plotlines to remove all error and suffering, I have to find assurance in my belief that God will lift my head and give me eternal, cosmic honor no matter what—just because of Jesus and what it means to be His. His honor is mine.

As shared earlier, driving anxiety persisted for two years and I think I still have some trauma from the accident. However, every time I grow in my faith, it’s like my armor against anxiety grows a little bit thicker, and I grew a lot as I wrestled through this. I hope my story helps thicken your armor, too.

Love,

Hope

P.S. On a lighter note, here are some lovely moments from the past week.