The
temperature outside was about two degrees Fahrenheit. I had ordered enough
pizza for 10 although only three showed up. Two were there for domestic
violence (DV) charges and one was there for drug charges. Experience dictated
that I should be afraid of the two dv clients. Common sense along with my
nagging gut feeling said otherwise. I was facilitating an addictions group the
night before Thanksgiving. It was to be a graduation ceremony for one of the
clients who never showed up.
Approximately
a month prior, my son, J., made plans to go to Wyoming to visit with his dad.
The weather had been unusually cold for this time of year and the road
conditions were dangerous. We were watching the weather reports with eagle
eyes.
My son
would not describe his relationship with his dad as close but he did want to
get away for a break. About two weeks before, J. started getting an uneasy
feeling. He had had too many negative experiences in the past two years to
ignore them. He tried to analyze the reasons for the feeling. First he thought
it was the tires on his truck. He had them checked and fixed. Still, the
uneasiness persisted. There had been a nine car pile-up in Parley’s Canyon due
to the ice. Parley’s Canyon was the route he would need to take. It was known
for being treacherous in the winter. He decided to cancel the trip. His dad
gave him a difficult time over the decision. My son also knew that whenever he
had a bad feeling about anything and his dad dismissed it as nothing, my son
had better listen to his own intuition. Still, the feeling persisted.
On Wednesday
nights J. attended a church function that wasn’t far from the facility where I
was at. We had an agreement where, if I ever felt threatened, I would text him
and he would stop what he was doing and meet me without question. During this
group, the individual who was there for drug charges was acting strange. The
other two kept looking at him with questioning glances and then at me. This
person dominated the group even though we tried to refocus the group back to
the main topic at hand. I felt scared even though I had no obvious reason to
be. I began thinking of all of the pizza there was, along with my own things
that needed to go out to the car. It would take me at least two trips.
Outside
was dark. The street was quiet except for the fire station across the way. Part
of me wanted to ask the other clients to wait but I also did not want to call
attention to myself. I sent a text to my son to meet me there. He said he was
on his way. When the clients left, I locked the doors and wrote my notes which
took all of about five minutes. J. arrived soon after. We walked out together.
Normally we would talk on the phone during our drive home but tonight we drove
in silence. My thoughts raced to how thankful I was that J. did not go up to
Wyoming.
Unloading
our vehicles he said in relief, “Mom, this is why I wasn’t supposed to go up to
my dad’s!” We both felt that had he not been there, I would most certainly have
been attacked.
In his
book, The Gift of Fear, Gavin de Becker attributes fear as a gift
because it is an instinctive sense that something is not right. He goes on to
say that we all have this perception,
“My basic premise…that you too are
an expert at predicting violent behavior. You have the gift of a brilliant
internal guardian that stands ready to warn you of hazards and guide you
through risky situations” (de Becker, 1997, p6).
Through
a series of encounters we have learned to take note of those senses and to be
consciously aware of them. Sporadically, nothing comes of it, for which I am
grateful. But when I do not feel good
about a person, and I am talking about a distinct uneasiness for which there is
no logical explanation, I am cautious and take precautions. Similarly, my son
has learned the same thing.
One
Sunday we needed to take my youngest son back to Snow College in Ephraim. I had
insisted I ride along, although J. didn’t seem to think so. He escorted S. back
from Salt Lake that evening because S. was undergoing horrible vehicle
problems. A drive that would normally take a half hour took an hour and a half.
By the time they arrived at my home it was already late. There was a strong
sense that I should go.
When we were leaving home and about to get on
the freeway I kept getting the impression to have a prayer. Brushing it off
because we did have them earlier in the day, the feeling persisted. Knowing
better than to ignore these promptings, I spoke up. S. agreed, saying he had
the same feeling. He offered the prayer invoking the Lord to watch over J.’s
driving. Off we went.
In Utah,
especially the small towns, one does not mess around with the Law or posted
speed limits. Period. As J. was driving through Fountain Green around 10 p.m.
the posted sign said 35 miles. J. was driving around 45. His gut feeling was to
slow down but he thought “Oh, I’ll be fine” due to the fact that he was used to
being able to get around certain speeds in our area. When he passed the second
sign stating 35 miles per hour (mph) and still going just over 45 red and blue
lights suddenly appeared. If that doesn’t make one want to …you fill in the
blanks…I don’t know what will. J. is a law abiding citizen who holds absolute
respect for the law, no questions asked. He quickly jerked the car to the side
of the road. We just sat there staring straight ahead. J. had his hands on the
steering wheel, every accident racing through his mind. All of us were offering
silent prayers. The officer went over the car with his light. He asked J. if he
was aware of going over the speed limit. J. gave his reasons while apologizing.
The officer asked for his driver’s license. He asked where J. was headed. J.
explained that he was taking his brother back to Snow College in Ephraim. The
officer said he had to look some things up and then he turned the flash light
on S. and I. He asked who was in the car with him. S. is sitting straight up
with his military fatigues on. I introduced myself as their mother. J.
introduced S. and me. The officer looked at this kid who was driving his
brother back to school on his own birthday and back at his mother. He said
without going back to his vehicle, “Tell you what, I’m going to let you go this
time” and hands back J.’s license. We thanked the officer and drove off.
We did not get
home until 12:30 a.m. I had to be up at 6 and J. had to be up at 6:30. The ride
was spent talking, expressing gratitude for the officer and his generosity,
prayers and that I came along. He said he would have just listened to his music
and probably would have fallen asleep considering how tired he was from all of
the nerve wrenching driving he had endured the last 8 hours. I don’t want to
imagine what would have happened otherwise. There is no doubt in either of our
minds that we were watched over that night. Coincidental? Not in our minds.
Kelli McDonald 5/31/12
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