Let me tell you the story of one particular instance of luck allowing me to avoid the consequences of my stupidity.

One day, back in high school, I was driving two friends of mine to Panchos, a Mexican buffet place. We were in my beat-up 1978 BMW, and I was being hasseled for having such an old car, and driving like it.

To attempt to show them up, I started driving faster, going about eighty-five to ninety miles an hour on the freeway. I was zipping between lanes, moving all around, and generally driving as agressivly as possible.

When it came time to reach our exit, I didn't slow down very much. I was still going over fiftey when I decided that I should cut accross the three-lane access road to the Pancho's parking lot, rather than go up to the light and have to turn around.

Well, as I made a hard right for the parking lot, I saw a mini-van about to pull out. I realized that I wasn't pulling hard enough in, and that if I didn't stop, we were going to collide.

I slammed on my break, causing a loud shreik to come from my tires. This had all happened so fast my friends didn't even know what was going on, and were shocked by the sudden inertia.

The car began to skid, burning rubber lines into the asphalt. It seemed like it was never going to end, and that it was all about to be over.

Then, suddenly, the car stopped. Litterally less than a foot from the middle of the driver's side on the Mini-Van, which was occupied by a shocked family of four.

My friends were totally shocked, unable to even say a word. I put my car in reverse, straightened out, and pulled slowly into the parking lot.

I knew then, just like I know now, that I was very much an instant away from killing a family of four, my friends, and potentially, myself. I didn't, though, and for no good reason. I wasn't particularly a good person, I too often failed at being trustworthy, accepting, loving, and selfless. Hell, I'm much better at those now than I was then, and even now I feel I'm straddling the moral fence most of the time.

That's not the only time luck has overcome my own stupidity to save me and those around me. It's happened so often now that I can't even begin to create a list. I can say, though, that I received something of which I was not worthy. Like the old baptist preachers, going on about undeserving sinners blessed by Jesus's blood, I too received a form of salvation. Or perhaps, just another chance. Either way, in the times when I face a crisis of faith, I consider those blessings. I realize that the Gods are around, and that they do take notice when one of their followers is in danger.

There are many more reasons that I'm a Pagan. Some even more important, some more concrete, some more intellectual. Still, this is a reason that I hold close to my heart. To know that Gods and Goddesses have smiled on me. It's awe-inspiring.