A Suggestion of Divine Intervention

When I was a teen, I loved running through the woods. Dodging trees, ducking under branches, leaping over logs, skipping over streams, up and down, round and round – often, trying to keep up with my dog. During that same time, I infrequently wore shoes. My feet were tough enough for me to walk on hot blacktop and run across sharp gravel; and, fly through the woods.

One day, I was doing some high speed bushwhacking, and when my tank ran dry, I stopped and rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath. As I panted, I spotted a small branch with a huge thorn laying right between my feet. Then another, inches away; and more … Looking around, I saw that I was standing amid a grove of terrifying trees and ankle deep in a sea of three inch thorns.

It took me a few minutes to tip toe my way out of the danger zone. Longer to properly thank my lucky stars. Had I landed on just one spike, I would likely have buckled and rolled through them, ending up like an inverted porcupine, with my quills pointing inward.

I've never been inclined to believe in divine intervention; but as fanciful as it seems, it certainly would make some things easier to “rationalize”. Of course, to be fair, if I were to give credit for all the good in life, I'd also have to assign blame for all the bad. And then my imagination would run amok down a path that would invariably end in my discounting free will, all together.

Whatever the reasons, I've been spared injury and/or death more times than I can remember. And for that, I'm divinely grateful.