Jonathan Lightfoot was speeding.
     “Easy on the gas there, Lightfoot…”
     He laughed out loud, crazy, like a maniac.
     “Easy now,” he said to himself in a calm, self-assuring voice that made him feel as if he were in charge of the situation.
     “Easy…” he repeated.
     Once again everything was spinning out of control.
     He pondered how he came to be in his present predicament. Just a few short minutes ago he had left work and started driving home. The gas pedal became stuck and his truck accelerated out of control. Turning off the ignition he wondered why he hadn’t turned it off sooner. The truck was just starting to slow down when someone pulled out in front of him. He swerved to avoid collision and as his vehicle tore through the guardrail and launched off the side of the mountain towards the lake below Jonathan made eye contact with an amazed child in the back seat of the car he was flying by... and smiled. During the split second between forward and downward momentum, Lightfoot opened the door and jumped out- hollering in spite of himself- for he had long ago vowed to look Death in the eye and take it like a man.

     He remembered that day well…
     It was a cool fall evening and his car was out of control, spinning at nearly 100 miles an hour through a tobacco field. A tire had blown and there was Death inside of him, laughing like a fool. Leaves were flying all around and the car began to flip over and over…
     Lying in the field that night, wreckage scattered about him in chaotic form, he decided to leave destiny to it’s own fate… for even as we borrow the breath of life, hidden away deep inside the reality of creation, countless clocks are ticking away- constant, unforgiving, forever measuring. Life is all about time, the absence thereof being eternal consciousness in the purest form…
     Lightfoot planned to be ready and regret free should he meet up with Death again.
     Simply accept, release, and rebirth.
 
     “Heaven help me- here I come!”
     A strong gust of wind seemed to pick Lightfoot up, and as the truck hit the earth and flattened Jonathan was skipped across the surface of the lake like a stone thrown by God’s own hand. Sure, he was rattled, and as he started to swim towards shore the world was silent except for the subtle rhythm of breaking waves. The truck looked like a dead dragon hunched down in defeat, the cliff rose boldly up from the lake like some gallant knight posing for a painting, expecting no less than a masterpiece…
     Lightfoot sat on the shore and someone hollered down, “HEY! Are you alright?” to which Jonathan replied that indeed he was. A slight breeze danced by. He stretched out in the warmth of the setting sun and thanked God.

     An old lady turned to her old man and asked, “Did you here about that Lightfoot fellow drivin’ off the cliff? That’s really something. A miracle I’d say, bless his heart.”
     “Yep,” he replied. “The spirit knows though the mind doesn’t always see- the wind blows and forewarns of rain but we are often surprised when the first drops touch the skin, announcing another unanticipated but predictable event… “Looks like rain,” we say, but we’d have known it was coming if we’d have only taken the time to think. We are allowed, indeed invited, to expect miracles. It is all about God.”

     Miracle the cat looked up from pretending to sleep and quickly realized that he was not, for the time being, the center of attention… so with a yawn and a stretch he returned his attention to the sunshine slipping through the window. His eyes and mind focused on nothing in particular, he soon drifted off and dreamt of the hunt. His paw twitched and the old lady looked at him and sighed.