Once more we’re more than happy to share a story from a contributor.
This time it’s the turn of Patty O’Halloran, a person whose life was transformed by a copy of A Course in Miracles, but not for the reasons you might think. Having lived life (quite literally) in the fast lane for decades, it took a near miss and a real twist of fate for her to change her life for the better.
Since I can remember, I’ve always been fascinated by fast cars.
I blame my Father. Being the only daughter of a naturally talented mechanic, I was bound to inherit his passion for vehicle maintenance.
Given the front seat that I had to all the work that my Father was doing it’s no surprise that a passing interest in his work would slowly transform into a full-blown fascination with all things automotive, especially for the faster varieties.
The smell of engine oil and grease are a permanent fixture in my mind when I revisit my childhood. It doesn’t matter which part of my youth I look back to, I’ll forever associate my earlier years with detailed plans of engines and the myriad of large and small pieces that make them up; the screws, nuts, bolts and the huffing of hydraulics, as my father would lift and lower the cars that he was gamely fixing.
Even back then I knew that it was the older, faster models that I preferred over the newer ones. Today, the story remains much the same. Despite the increased performance of modern engines, with their advanced fuel injection systems and sleek slimline figures, the pure thrill of driving an older vehicle has yet to be matched in my eyes by any modern iteration.
I was incredibly close to my Father, right up to his sudden death, whilst I was studying at University. The drive back home to identify the body and sort out the funeral arrangements was hard. I remember feeling responsible, as if I’d only visited him a bit more over weekends, instead of staying up through the nights with friends then perhaps he would have been happier, wouldn’t have lost himself in his work and pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion.
I didn’t pay attention to the rising speed dial on the dash of the 1972 911 Porsche restoration until suddenly I was barrelling through the country lanes of my childhood, racing to get back to a Father who would no longer be waiting there.
The car driving in the opposite direction had a far more robust structure than my older model. Steel and glass were crumpled irreparably and I was lucky enough to survive the crash.
Whilst I was recovering hospital I found myself in a ward bed next to a cheery older gentleman who had recently suffered a stroke. Despite the severe physical limitations he had been saddled with, his lopsided smile impressed me. As he was being wheeled out by his supportive Father, he passed me a book. Whilst I can’t say that I’ve lived my life by the tenets set forth in A Course in Miracles, I can say that it absolutely helped me reconsider my Father’s death and allow me to accept it with a sense of happiness.
If you’ve got your own story that relates to A Course in Miracles or the other works done by the practitioners of the movement then please send them into us via our ‘Share Your Thoughts‘ page.