Perhaps the biggest mistake I ever made, was on March 24th 2007. Some friends and I had been out for a meal together and were driving in convoy to the pub, to continue the frivolities with a bevy (non-alcoholic for me of course). We were approaching a right-hand turn on a road I knew well. The car in front of me made it through the traffic lights, but in the distance they changed to red. Before I had reached a complete halt, they resumed their green glow. I swapped my foot from the break to the accelerator and went through the lights to turn right. What I didn't realise, as a inexperienced driver on a dark and rainy night, was that the absence of a flow arrow requires one to give way to oncoming traffic. I may have registered the ethereal lights of the forthcoming ebony Audi, but what I did not archive was that the right of way was not mine. I was committed to the turn. I can still remember my (then) boyfriend's scream; the two blazing beacons soaring towards me, headlights that could not give warning enough, to steer my car out of the way. I momentarily prepared for the impending blow. I cannot recall in any depth the moment we came into contact. Black metal collided with silver metal and sent us spinning. My consciousness lapsed and I surfaced silently for a moment, before tuning back into reality to hear the ever since-ghostly LCD Soundsystem's 'North American Scum' playing, which I desperately fumbled to switch off, craving quiet to comfort my pounding mind. I was paddling in a bad dream. It was only as I turned around to beckon my passengers out of the car that the nightmare flooded all around me. Bloodied and benumbed were my friend Louisa and her (then) boyfriend Adam. I thought I had killed them. Screaming, nauseas and barely able to breathe, I scrambled out of the car and dived into the arms of a woman whose face I didn't even see. Nestled into her bosom I wanted to be in the arms of someone who could make everything better. Whirring sirens and bedazzling blue interrupted my embrace with the stranger. 3 ambulances. 3 fire-engines.
Matt, (my boyfriend at the time), although traumatised, was remarkably 'OK'. A few scratches and moderate whiplash. They weren't dead. Louisa broke her jaw in 3 places and Adam, having endured quite a blow to the head, escaped with impeded hearing. My conscience nursed the worst of my injuries. I lay in bed for days crying, partly because I hurt so much - my body ached all over from the shock and the impact of the collision - but mostly because I felt so guilty. My idiotic misjudgment could have killed my friends. Although she was alive, Louisa's face was swollen and disgusting and I thought she, her family and our friends would resent me; for the fact that the accident was my fault and yet she was in the most physical pain; she was the one who looked disfigured. She had been so beautiful before. I hoped that she would heal, lest I be forever reminded of my stupidity.
If you don't have to rush off, I want to tell you what happened. When I returned to school, people, although they all wanted in on the almost-tragic gossip, weren't unkind to me. Louisa's surgery was successful and her face looked much more human. Our friends reassured me that I wasn't to blame and that it could have happened to anyone. 'North American Scum' stopped replaying in my dreams. Over time, things appeared almost normal. Louisa's face healed remarkably well, with only a tiny scar. All along however, I feared that maybe things weren't quite the same between us.
That was all before I went to University. However, over the three years that I was in London, out of all my friends from home, Louisa was the one with whom I stayed in contact the most. She ended up staying with me for multiple weeks throughout the duration of my time there and I felt as though God was keeping her in my life for something, as we had never been especially close before. Last spring, Louisa and I got into a chat with some of my friends about the car accident and it turned out that she had never realised how I had felt and had (understandably) harboured a little bit of resentment. But I believe, God by his grace wanted us both to know how the other was feeling, so we could put it behind us. We resolved it later that night via text, well almost. The mistake was not quite undone. Well, they never can be undone. But they can be reworked into tapestries...
In July this year, Louisa, who had recently found a faith in Jesus (having never really been interested in our car-accident/school days) came along to a Christian conference with me. Skipping past, what was really a very significant week for her, to the last day, was one the most remarkable things Jesus has ever done for me; well for us both actually. At the end of one of the sessions, some people came forward and shared from the front that they felt there were some specific illnesses and injuries that God wanted to heal. Among those conditions shared from the front, was something about a jaw. Louisa went forward to receive prayer for healing. I didn't catch on. Turns out, she had suffered for 3 years (ever since the accident) with an aching and clicking jaw, although she never told me (perhaps to protect my feelings). I only found this out, at the end of the healing ministry time, when I saw her standing on stage with a microphone, in front of 3000 or so people and between tears, sharing about a car accident that she had been in. She described how ever since this accident, she had been in pain and that every time she ate her jaw had clicked. On hearing this, I broke down in tears. A haunting reminder of an incident I wanted to forget. But before the nightmare could return, I heard her proclaiming that Jesus had healed her! The clicking was gone. Instead of crying, she was laughing, holding the microphone to her mouth and demonstrating her now-normally functioning,non-clicking jaw. I was instantly released from something I thought I'd put behind me and we ran to each other to embrace and celebrate. I now wasn't in the arms of a stranger, but my friend, whom I thought I'd killed that night and there was someone who could make it better - who was in the process of making it better and turning my mess into something amazing.
What on earth has this got to do with me being in Holland you might be thinking? Although a horrific mistake, I believe God has used March 24th 2007 to get me to Holland. If you read my next post, I'll unpack the thought for you and continue my story.
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