Evidence of Grace--Chicago II

An onomatopoeia is a word that sounds like its meaning. Many onomatopoeia's may be applied to the following experience. Screech, squeal, bump, slam, honk, and roar are all examples of sounds that I heard from the airport to downtown Chicago. It was a roller coaster ride of high speed, curves, acceleration, and creative adjustment to the prescribed highway system. The terms smooth, refined, elegant, careful, deliberate, and polished have nothing to do with our trip to downtown Chicago.

It is only through the grace of God that we were delivered safely to our respective temporary residences. Not one speed limit sign was acknowledged; not one curve was executed with safety; not one lane was occupied by us for more than a minute at a time. Each stop light was approached with anger at its existence, and the brakes on the vehicle were applied at the last second to prevent the inevitable crash (note the onomatopoeia). One memorable moment occurred as we moved onto the parking lane with our wheels flirting feverishly with the curb, and the taxi driver inched past the line of cars waiting at the light. Suddenly in a fierce acceleration, he moved past the cars, jumped in front of the line and continued. His prediction of the green light was uncanny.

Strangely, during this mad flight through downtown Chicago, he gently talked about his five children and his wife and how much enjoys raising his children in the United States. He was from India but had lived here many years and spoke positively about the opportunities in our country. During the conversation, he would pause to allow me to make the usual verbal sounds acknowledging his words. I must say I did quite well at masking my fear and trying to place my heart back in the right place and out of my throat. I did have to wait a few seconds to answer one of his questions so I could witness the 3 inch clearance as we passed a large truck, drove on the shoulder near the drop off of the bridge, and moved in front of the truck only to hear a wild crescendo of honking horn sound emanating from the truck.

When I wasn't grunting (another one!) out a response to the driver, I was busy saying silent prayers and watching my life flash (good one, huh?) before my eyes. As I exited the taxi, paid him richly (that's not one), I was very happy to have my feet on the ground. I'm sure the greeters at the door wondered about my euphoric grin on my face. I wanted to hug everyone I saw and thank the Lord for being alive and sending the angels on the trip. Whew (a good one), the ride was over.

Later I walked through the streets and stopped counting at 10 near accidents between vehicles, pedestrians, and bicycle riders and decided to reflect on God's grace that allows us to even be alive in this rat race we call life. For it must be some sort of miracle that prevents constant mishaps in downtown Chicago. Therein lies the difference between Chicago and where I live in Texas. I look forward to the irenic joys of my residence where the angels still have to work, but not nearly as hard!

Unfortunately I have to get a ride back to the airport on Tuesday. Yikes! (best one yet).