Before Impact
On falling, surrender, and the inconvenient business of being alive.
Last night, I had a dream.
I was driving down the highway at an extraordinary speed, swerving through the twists and loops of the interchange, navigating each turn as though I knew exactly where I was going.
Until I didn’t.
I took a wrong turn.
And suddenly, I was in the sky.
My car was soaring higher and higher, and as I watched the highway disappear beneath me, the realization came: I was no longer on the ground.
And coming down was going to be a very different experience.
I knew I wasn’t going to survive.
I knew it was going to hurt.
And in those moments, as I climbed toward a height from which there would be no safe return, a thousand thoughts came rushing through my mind.
The people I loved. The things I wanted to say. The people I might never see again.
I wanted them to know I loved them.
So I told them.
Somewhere between the ascent and the inevitable descent, I became separated from my car. I could feel the wind against my back as we began falling toward the earth together, my body suspended just above the very thing that had carried me into the sky.
I wanted desperately to get back inside.
Maybe the car could protect me. Maybe it could absorb some of the impact. Maybe there was still the slightest possibility that I would survive.
But I knew the logistics.
I knew the distance.
I knew what gravity was going to do.
And I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Would I hit a tree? Burst into flames? Land in water?
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Would I feel everything?
Would it happen all at once?
The possibilities came and went, each one more terrifying than the last.
And then, something extraordinary happened.
A peace came over me.
A peace that surpassed understanding.
I cannot explain where it came from, only that it arrived when I had exhausted every possibility of saving myself.
I still wanted to live.
I still wanted to fight.
But there was nothing left to fight.
And so I accepted the peace that was overcoming me.
I relaxed my muscles and prepared for the impact, as my back was leading the way to my dismay, to my demise.
And with what I believed to be the last of my consciousness, I turned my thoughts to God.
I didn’t ask Him to save me.
I didn’t bargain for another chance.
I wanted Him to know that I chose Him.
Consciously. Willingly. With whatever time I had left.
I closed my eyes.
God, I’m ready.
And wouldn’t you know it?
Just when I thought it was time to go…
I opened my eyes.
And realized I had to pee.
