Image by Sally
Year round, mayhem percolates beneath the surface. We ward off those things that go bump in the night by flossing, purchasing insurance, and securing seatbelts. During the Halloween season, the untidy side of life moves to the foreground. Chaos, entropy, and the nefarious reign.
Several seasons ago, my family and I drove right into trouble on a seemingly unspooky, spring night.
During March of 2006, our family drove thirty minutes into a more rural part of the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia to enjoy dinner with one of my co-workers and her son. The three adults sat on overstuffed furniture and talked while the three children played on a braided rug. A wood-burning stove offered warmth and additional light. Woodland animals and wind moved in the darkness outside the window while we enjoyed the home’s safety. After a delicious meal that culminated with a jelly-roll chocolate cake, we were all feeling very relaxed. Being a school night, we said our goodbyes fairly early and started a sleepy drive through dark, winding roads.
We hadn’t even gone a country mile, when Michael noted, “Look at that fire.” From the driver’s seat, I saw a tall, thin flame licking up towards the sky. It was coming from a house to our right, located downhill from the road. I came to a stop in front of the driveway, right behind a car parked behind a row of trees that stood between the road and the front lawn.
Before we could see the source of the fire, a man ran up the driveway, casting a backwards glance at us and scowling. He was about the same height, weight and coloring as my husband. A doppelganger with a darker visage. He got in his car parked in front of us and pulled away quickly. Michael got out of our van and stood at the top of the driveway. The fire was not coming from the house but from a lit gas can, just feet from the front porch. Calling through the open passenger door, Michael asked, “Should we see if someone is home?”
Before we made a decision, we heard popping sounds– like firecrackers. I somehow made the association, “Michael! That’s gunfire. Get in the van.” As soon as Michael sat down and closed the door, I put the van in gear. Before I could pull away, I heard a crash and the screams of my four-year-old daughter. I didn’t want to slow down, so while accelerating I turned around quickly to see that the window next to her had been shattered. She was screaming, “Stop the van!” But I had to get us away from the shooter. “Everyone, duck as low as you can. Michael, call 911.” He talked with the police as we drove to meet them at the closest gas station, which was a couple of miles away.
Once at the gas station, we parked in a clean, well-lighted parking spot, which emboldened me get my daughter out of her car seat and hug her. I removed her pink boots and poured out the glass cubes from the shattered window. The police soon arrived and scoured the van, looking for the bullet. My eight-year-old son, Porter, donned snow gloves and helped pick through the glass. Finally an officer found a hole in the ceiling of the van, not too far from Clarissa’s car seat. She was spared harm because the shooter was running uphill, causing the bullet to travel an upward angle into the ceiling instead of going straight into her shoulder, neck or head.
That night we all four slept in one bed. More accurately, didn’t sleep, but hugged and kissed each other, cried and prayed together for the rest of the night. We later learned that the shooter was a high school senior. He was guarding his mother’s house against that which might go bump in the night: an anticipated attack by a threatening ex-husband who looked very much like Michael.
Because I explore many avenues for managing my generalized anxiety, I had been reading a lot of Zen Buddhist meditations prior to that night. I chose to stay detached, so I didn’t press charges or dwell on the chaos. Instead, I offered up many prayers, thanking God that my family was spared harm. I also prayed in behalf of the young man. His life would have been forever changed if his aim had been better. When the police called to report the arrest, I urged the officer, “Please educate this teen against the risks of vigilante justice so that he won’t get into this type of trouble again.”
Even though I now recognize the reality of things that go “bang, bang” in the night, I try to focus instead on the grace of God and this blended image. United against the darkness that threatens to overcome us, our friends and family members remain constantly intertwined in love and mutual support. We are huddled before gentle hearth fires that we take turns maintaining in order to give us additional warmth and light.
How do you view the role of chaos, the unplanned, or harmful acts that interrupt your life’s journey? How have you responded to uninvited trouble? Do you have a real-life spooky story to share?
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