My early memory of life’s fragile edge was when I was twelve years old. Everyone involved knew each other. We were friends; young, innocent, and eagerly enjoying growing up in India in the 60s.
As a sipped a coffee this morning, I shut my eyes and found myself sitting on the engine cover in a unique blunt-nosed cab-forward Jeep. The cab sat over the front axle with a flat front and big windshield which curved around the edges for a clear view. Normal sitting accommodated two individuals. On this day, I had tagged along so we could all get home with one trip. The only sitting place possible was the engine cover and for a short, young me, it was just fine.
We drove out Salisbury Park on a bright sunny day with a cool breeze. The windows were down, three boys enjoying life to the full. As we came around the corner, we saw two friends ahead. They were riding on bicycles back from town. We were driving slowly – as much of a reflection of a lazy day where nobody was in a hurry as it was the right speed for roads filled with unexpected hidden potholes.
The immediate consensus was to stop and catch-up with friends.
Dennis applied the brakes to time our stop where they would be. I only remember what followed in slow motion. Without warning, one rear brake grabbed and froze the wheel, while the other seemingly did nothing. The pick-up jerked and pivoted on the right front so that we were aimed and sliding towards the two bicycles. With eyes fixed straight ahead, the gap silently and instantly closed. The idyllic scene replaced by glass shattering as the bicycles and bodies met the flat grill.
An unconscious body with a compound leg fracture laid where it landed, just in front of the bumper. Eternal whispers where life hangs in the balance was branded into my memories; “we would have lost our lives in the wild, raging water.” (Psalm 124.5)
As God’s healing followed, I knew what could have been.
