Suddenly, I had the answer to a fifty-year-old
mystery. My mind flashed back to that
day when I was sixteen: Miss Hot Stuff with a driver’s license, running an
errand in the family car. Three blocks
from the house, I plowed the car into the back of a parked truck. Inattention, clear and simple.
So what’s the mystery? I could never
understand how I broke my hand.
Watching a NASCAR race a while back gave me the likely
answer. Recent in-car video from Daytona
showing a nasty crash by Danica Patrick shows Danica throwing her hands in the
air just prior to a hard hit on the inside wall. Video from a later race showed Jimmie Johnson
folding his hands across his mid-section just prior to a crash. Racing analysts were quick to point out that
these learned responses were exactly the right moves to protect their hands and
arms. Both walked away with minor bumps
and bruises.
In other words: Take your hands off the wheel.
If you hold on through the moment of impact, you risk a badly broken
wrist or, at the very least, some broken fingers.
What do we do when life is heading for a crash? How do we respond when inevitable disaster
looms ahead on our road of life? Grip
that steering wheel with all you’ve got and try to keep control, you say?
There is a crucial moment when we have to stop driving and
let Jesus take the wheel.
But when you’re sixteen, you don’t yet know these things.
