No Help from Beyond
By Canadian Atheist
I was recently involved in a car accident. It sure does make one stop and think.
I was driving along a scenic country highway with lots of hills, curves, rocks, trees, and lakes during the early evening hours of an August Sunday. We were 20 minutes into a three hour drive back to the city. It was overcast and a little rainy off and on. Since it was a holiday weekend, we should not have been on that particular stretch of highway at that particular time, but my nine year old daughter was scheduled for horseback riding camp on Monday morning. Being a city kid, these opportunities are few and far between and she wanted to cut our weekend short so she could ride. So Sunday evening found us driving through a light rain singing along with a CD on the car stereo.
It still amazes me that a nearly new car, on decent asphalt, in relatively good conditions, and going near the posted speed limit can find itself off the road, but it can. And did, in a split second. I remember the series of events like they happened in slow motion. As I entered a curve the steering gave to the right like I had hit ice. I tried to correct and thought that I had succeeded when it happened again, this time dropping a wheel into the soft shoulder, spinning the car, and traveling backward down a rock ditch, becoming airborne for a short distance, and finally skidding to a stop beside a rock wall outside of the driver side window. This must be a little like what astronauts feel on reentry.
Following what seemed like a distinct pause the next thing I heard was my daughter start to cry, and in amongst her tears were the words, "Daddy, why did that happen?" Of course I did not have an answer. Shortly after that her next tearful question was "How will I ever get home now?" You just have to love kids and their ability to look past near disaster to see how this will affect their plans.
What followed was a series of events beginning with the panicked check to ensure that she (and I as an afterthought) was unhurt, climbing out through the passenger car door, and then dealing with the ensuing details of helpful motorists, police, tow trucks, and attempted explanations. In the midst of this I managed to get my daughter on her way home with a friend. While this may have been the best decision for her, it was excruciating to have her out of my sight.
I do not know what actually happened. Was I driving too fast? I don’t think so. Did my tire blow? Perhaps.
All this is, of course, beside the point. What really matters is that we walked away unscathed and the car is just a car. And what really sticks out is the range of emotions that everyone involved goes through and how they are dealt with.
Although I was panicked, stricken with parental concern over my daughter's distress, and in a complete daze through the course of events, it sticks in my mind that everyone commented how it could have been worse, that we were extremely lucky, and that someone was obviously watching over us. This brings the question to mind, how does an atheist deal with cases of extreme luck and escaping near death or serious injury without a scratch?
To all the passing motorists who stopped to help, as well as various "believing" friends and family members over the next few days, we had "guardian angels," or "it wasn't our time to go." I may not believe as they do, but I sure can see the comfort in those thoughts.
There are times when I wish I could comfort my daughter and myself with the feeling that "there is someone watching out for me," and that we are all a little safer because of it, but I haven't lied to her yet about my beliefs and won't start now. There isn't anyone"up there" and we escaped unscathed by pure dumb luck. This thought, of course, makes you feel very vulnerable but can also be viewed as the idea that we are in charge of our own destiny, since no help from beyond will be forthcoming.
The days since the accident have been filled with minutia of getting home, dealing with the insurance company, arranging a rental car, getting back to normal life and, incidentally, reading news of the many other weekend accidents in cottage country in which people lost their lives. The love and support of those closest to me has been invaluable, but it is hard when all the time in between in filled with fear and parental guilt about putting my daughter in danger. I’d like to think that I am the one watching over her, but in this case I can't help feeling that I failed in that duty. Hey, stuff happens, but it's not supposed to happen to your kids. We're supposed to keep them from all harm, right?
There are many stories from atheists and believers alike who, when life hands them a turn for the worse, exclaim "Why me?" In this case the scare was extreme, the danger was real, and it could have been much, much worse. One could ask, "Why not me?"
Sometimes I envy the believers who think they hear a response; who think that all events, good and bad, are part of a divine plan. It takes away all their responsibility, and the feeling of responsibility for endangering my daughter's life is one I'd rather not have.
By Canadian Atheist
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I was driving along a scenic country highway with lots of hills, curves, rocks, trees, and lakes during the early evening hours of an August Sunday. We were 20 minutes into a three hour drive back to the city. It was overcast and a little rainy off and on. Since it was a holiday weekend, we should not have been on that particular stretch of highway at that particular time, but my nine year old daughter was scheduled for horseback riding camp on Monday morning. Being a city kid, these opportunities are few and far between and she wanted to cut our weekend short so she could ride. So Sunday evening found us driving through a light rain singing along with a CD on the car stereo.
It still amazes me that a nearly new car, on decent asphalt, in relatively good conditions, and going near the posted speed limit can find itself off the road, but it can. And did, in a split second. I remember the series of events like they happened in slow motion. As I entered a curve the steering gave to the right like I had hit ice. I tried to correct and thought that I had succeeded when it happened again, this time dropping a wheel into the soft shoulder, spinning the car, and traveling backward down a rock ditch, becoming airborne for a short distance, and finally skidding to a stop beside a rock wall outside of the driver side window. This must be a little like what astronauts feel on reentry.
Following what seemed like a distinct pause the next thing I heard was my daughter start to cry, and in amongst her tears were the words, "Daddy, why did that happen?" Of course I did not have an answer. Shortly after that her next tearful question was "How will I ever get home now?" You just have to love kids and their ability to look past near disaster to see how this will affect their plans.
What followed was a series of events beginning with the panicked check to ensure that she (and I as an afterthought) was unhurt, climbing out through the passenger car door, and then dealing with the ensuing details of helpful motorists, police, tow trucks, and attempted explanations. In the midst of this I managed to get my daughter on her way home with a friend. While this may have been the best decision for her, it was excruciating to have her out of my sight.
I do not know what actually happened. Was I driving too fast? I don’t think so. Did my tire blow? Perhaps.
All this is, of course, beside the point. What really matters is that we walked away unscathed and the car is just a car. And what really sticks out is the range of emotions that everyone involved goes through and how they are dealt with.
Although I was panicked, stricken with parental concern over my daughter's distress, and in a complete daze through the course of events, it sticks in my mind that everyone commented how it could have been worse, that we were extremely lucky, and that someone was obviously watching over us. This brings the question to mind, how does an atheist deal with cases of extreme luck and escaping near death or serious injury without a scratch?
To all the passing motorists who stopped to help, as well as various "believing" friends and family members over the next few days, we had "guardian angels," or "it wasn't our time to go." I may not believe as they do, but I sure can see the comfort in those thoughts.
There are times when I wish I could comfort my daughter and myself with the feeling that "there is someone watching out for me," and that we are all a little safer because of it, but I haven't lied to her yet about my beliefs and won't start now. There isn't anyone"up there" and we escaped unscathed by pure dumb luck. This thought, of course, makes you feel very vulnerable but can also be viewed as the idea that we are in charge of our own destiny, since no help from beyond will be forthcoming.
The days since the accident have been filled with minutia of getting home, dealing with the insurance company, arranging a rental car, getting back to normal life and, incidentally, reading news of the many other weekend accidents in cottage country in which people lost their lives. The love and support of those closest to me has been invaluable, but it is hard when all the time in between in filled with fear and parental guilt about putting my daughter in danger. I’d like to think that I am the one watching over her, but in this case I can't help feeling that I failed in that duty. Hey, stuff happens, but it's not supposed to happen to your kids. We're supposed to keep them from all harm, right?
There are many stories from atheists and believers alike who, when life hands them a turn for the worse, exclaim "Why me?" In this case the scare was extreme, the danger was real, and it could have been much, much worse. One could ask, "Why not me?"
Sometimes I envy the believers who think they hear a response; who think that all events, good and bad, are part of a divine plan. It takes away all their responsibility, and the feeling of responsibility for endangering my daughter's life is one I'd rather not have.
September 21, 2002