It wasn’t my time to die today. But it could have been. While driving to give a breast cancer awareness presentation for a University of Florida sorority, I drove through a traffic light, as is customary when the light is green. It’s also customary, as you know, to turn left on green, but only when there are no cars hurling in your direction. This morning, I was in the hurling car (truck, to be exact) as a little blue car turned right in front of me. We both must have been traveling at 40 miles per hour, so our intersection with one another could have been both forceful and tragic. Thankfully, the lane to my right was clear. So I veered as swiftly as I could in that direction while the barreling car sped behind me. We missed each other by a hair. And we were spared the misfortune that could have resulted.
I called John immediately after my near-collision to tell him two things. One: He was not meant to get a new vehicle just yet. You see, John would love something new. A brand new truck would be great. A Mustang GT would be even better. We toy with the idea of investing in something new but always fall back on what we have: no car payments. So it was a sign, perhaps, that the truck I drove today was not hit. We are meant to keep on driving the old thing. For now anyway.
The second thing I told John was this: Today was not my time. It’s a good thing. Because just 30 minutes after that blue car sent my heart racing, I was speaking with 100 young women and their parents about how I am surviving breast cancer. I simply had to be there to spread my message. Not surviving my trip to the presentation just would not have been acceptable.
I spoke about living in the moment at the sorority brunch I visited today. I mentioned the moment to my audience because of breast cancer. But I realize after today that the moment is important because of so much more than breast cancer. My near-car accident reminds me of this. There are so many forces at work that threaten our lives each and every day. Breast cancer is just one of them. And so now, more than ever, I know I must fight for my life while living each day as if it’s my last. It’s the only way, I think, to manage the unknowns in this world.
For now, I know one thing for sure: Today was not my day. And what a glorious day it was.
Today, I ran 3.2 miles in Gainesville’s Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event.
