This Sunday morning started like every other Sunday morning. It began with my mother calling down the steps “Its 7:00 girls! Your father does not want you late for music practice!” to which I responded, as I do ever Sunday, “Becki is taking the first shower!” Ten minuets later, she again yelled down to us “Girls!!! Get up! It’s already 7:10.” To this, my sister Becki finally stumbled out of bed to take her shower. I let my heavy eyelids drop and snuggled into my warm blankets and embraced the thought of dozing for another ten minuets. Every Sunday morning, we arrive at church an hour early to practice the music for the worship service. I often feel like it is a waste of my time, especially when my bed is so warm and all I do is run the power point. With in moments, my mother again yelled for me to get into the shower. Apparently, Becki had already been done with her shower and it was my turn. I crawled out of my comfy bed and made my way to the bathroom, took my shower and got ready for church. I decided to dress up a little for church today. I pulled out my charcoal gray pants with pink pin stripes and my v-neck sweater. I spent a little extra time putting on make-up and I even iron my pants.
As soon as I finished ironing my pants, I made my way to the kitchen to eat breakfast; however, I was rudely interrupted. “Come on Kate! We’re late! Will you drive?” I grabbed my keys and followed Becki out the door. My dad had already left and had taken our new car and my sister an I had to take “the ice box.” We have affectionately nicknamed out hunter green intrepid “the ice box” since the heater had quit working earlier last month. I ran back inside to grab an extra coat to keep me warm on the drive to church.
I thought I would be clever and take the highway to church so we could arrive to church on time. It had snowed a little last night, but the roads seemed to be pretty clear and not icy on out residential street so it seemed like a logical way to church. As we got onto the onramp, “the ice box” began to fishtail a little to the left, so I turned my wheel to the left to pull us out of the fishtail. I was shocked at how instantly the car turned and began to fishtail to the right and then next thing I knew we were no longer on the road, but actually looking at the road from the ditch on the side of the onramp. All Becki said the whole time was “we are okay, we are okay, its okay, were okay.” My heart was pounding fast, I was shaking a little bit and I was desperately hoping that we would be able to drive out of this predicament. But it was pretty obvious we were going nowhere for awhile. Ironically, my sister’s cell phone was ringing and she answered it with “we are in a ditch.” It was my mom on the other line and she said she would call our father to come pick us up. Becki and I sat in the freezing car trying to act like we weren’t on the side of the high way waiting for a handsome fellow to rescue two damsels in distress. I put the car in park, turned off the lights and figured that since the heater doesn’t work, I turned the car off too. I reclined my seat so that passing vehicles couldn’t see me, Becki freaked out thinking that we would roll down the hill farther from the road. We listened to the radio and talked about the songs, and acted completely rational. Within a few minuets my dad called and said that he could see us. And then he began to tease us about how far from the road we were.
Becki and I climbed out of the car to meet him. I saw that my tire tracks in the freshly fallen snow were unlike any tire tracks I had ever seen, all four tires must have been going in different directions. Walking throught the deep snow in stiletto heels was definitely a challenge in itself. As my dad’s dark gray
Toyota pulled up I could see the anxious eyes of my little brother Joe, peaking out the window to see the site. As I got in the car he says to me “Woah Kate, it looks like the tragedy messed up your hair a little bit!” I responded with a very mature remark of “it looks like your face is a little messed up.” We did make it to church in time for music practice. After practice we waited for the service to start, I was in the church office talking to my friend Laura, when I over heard my dad telling someone how I drove into a ditch. And, it was then that I realized that this was only the beginning. You see, my dad is the pastor of our little church and I knew he was going to tell everyone from the pulpit.
As the service began, my dad went forward for announcements and like I predicated he told every one, after which, my sister too made an announcement and made it clear to everyone that I was the one driving. Thankfully, it was my week to read a few verses to open the service. Before I read the verses I was suppose to, I redeemed myself. And I told the congregation that the car was not that far from the road, and that if Becki was driving she would have flipped that car.
