Yesterday I had a near death experience.
How dramatic does that sound? Pretty dramatic? Good. I was driving, almost at the church, which was where I was headed, when someone turned left, running a red light right in front of me. It is just hitting me now how lucky I was. Right before I went through that light something told me, almost audibly, "slow down." And I did. Normally I ignore those annoying little whispers telling myself I am just being silly, or I am overreacting, but yesterday I listened. I slowed down to 25 mph and when I saw the car in my path, I slammed on my brakes and barely missed them. If I had ignored that voice, and continued at my previous, legal speed of 45, I would have plowed into the side of that rather sizable SUV.
I could have died. I probably would have, if not for that little voice that told me to "slow down." Looking back, I have had a lot of close calls. I was once locked in the trunk of a car on a ninety-eight degree day in late May, and I lived. I remember realizing that I had stopped sweating. I felt cooler, and I remember thinking that if I could just go to sleep, I would feel much better, but there was that voice that told me "No Kendra, you need to stay awake, just hold on a little longer." I believe that if I had fallen asleep in the trunk of that car, I could easily have died, but I am still alive. Yesterday I could have died, but I am still alive.
I believe God knows me, I have always believed it. I believe he could have let me die yesterday, or any other day, but instead He whispered in my ear, warning me, protecting me. What's news to me (and I can't believe it never occurred to me before) is that I have a purpose. There is a reason I am still here. I am not just drudging along, alone on this rock all haphazard-like; God wants me here. Right now, in this small moment in my tiny little life, I am supposed to be here.
Part of me is not sure how to feel about this. Part of me is so exhausted with living, (the part of me that wishes for anything from going to bed and not waking up, to a fiery car crash) the part of me that thinks dying would be easier. The rest of me is in awe. For years I've asked myself questions like "Why was I saved?" "What is the reason?" "Why do I even matter?" "Why doesn't God just let me die?"
I've realized that perhaps I have been asking the wrong questions all along. I realize now that if there is a creator, and if He has a plan, and if my being alive is part of that plan, then I have a responsibility. I am supposed to accomplish something. Maybe the questions I should be asking myself are, "Who am I supposed to help?" "Whose life am I supposed to touch?" "What good can I do?"
I am supposed to be alive, I know that now, but I think more important than that, I am supposed to live.