Godly Intervention

                  GODLY INTERVENTION

I'd passed that road so many times going here and there each day
Saw it reach into the haunting woods in a rather pensive way
"I'll take that road some day," I said, as the throttle met the floor
"But now I'm in a hurry," so I moved on -- with a roar

I was off to do a hundred things of significant import
There were meetings, mail and phone calls, messages to sort
My time was too important, I couldn't stop or hesitate
The world just wouldn't function if I didn't regulate

The days sped by and once again I barreled by that place
When a monster rig with eighteen wheels began to slow my pace
"Get out of my way," I cursed and swore as I moved in close behind
Then a blast ripped through his eighteenth tire and tread began to unwind

Caught in a storm of rubber and cord I tried to dodge the advance
I swerved to the right to avoid being hit by a random missile of chance
With speed of light and wrath of fire an eight-ply lance tore in
To bind up my left front axle and cause one heck-of-a spin

I yanked the wheel and hit the brake as I watched my life flash by
While fighting hard to control that skid I had to question – why?
Why did the fickle finger of fate glance at me that day?
And let that blasted truck roll on, contented on his way

He never looked back when he topped the hill, he continued running free
While I left the road and smashed - against a hapless cottonwood tree
As the dust settled down I breathed in deep and slowly cleared my eyes
There ahead lay that rustic lane, somewhat to my surprise

I was thankful not to be impaired in this place of low occasion
But eager to be on my way in new found transportation
My Jag was bent, it wouldn't start and no one was around
So I thought I'd try that backwoods trail to see what might be found

My nature was to bolt and run. To walk was not my style
But soon, I began to relax a bit along that country mile
There was time to savor Dogwood, ponder sunlight through the trees
And even sense the smell of roses wafting in the breeze

The roadway, cool and narrow crossed a rivulet serene
And rose up on the other side through abundant fields of green
Where nestled in among the pines a rural chapel stood
To serve the needs of wayward souls while passing by this wood

This place, I thought, just might provide an altered situation
There seemed to be a pattern here of primordial destination
I pushed the hand carved door aside and peered into the narthex
To find a vicar standing there arranging sacred objects

"Father, sir, if you'll excuse me, I've stopped along this path
To offer up a thankful prayer for deliverance from the wrath
Of a fiendish turnpike cruiser and a call too close to mention
For I surely would have perished without Godly intervention"

As he turned around to face me, I felt his spirit kind
He looked at me with knowing gaze that bore into my mind
And said, "I'm glad you're here, my son, but weigh again your lot
About whether divine hand entered in.  Maybe -- maybe not."

"It seems to me," he started on,  "that God is not reactively restricted
Just standing by to save us from misfortune, self-inflicted
But sometimes when we charge along our way in blind ambition
He deems it necessary to solicit our attention"

"To help us stop and think a bit, and alter our perspective
On why and where we’re headed down that highway, unreflective
While a greater, higher purpose, with meaning yet unraveled
Stands waiting our discovery along the trail less traveled"

As his thoughts embraced my being like a newly opened door
I saw a premonition of all the back roads to explore
He must have grasped the fervor that I felt to forge ahead
"I'll have the sexton take you on his way downtown," he said

I thanked him as he walked with me to the churchyard porte-cochere
To continue on my journey in a pickup waiting there
"Hop in," smiled the driver, "I'm pleased to share this ride
Since we both can use the service a repair shop can provide"

"You see", he said, as he pulled away,  "the chapel can't afford
A clergy that draws full time pay in service to the Lord
So, I’m off to town to try to help the vicar make a buck
To get the wheel in back repaired for his eighteen wheeler truck”