It wasn’t exactly the JFK assassination or 9-11-01, but I bet lots of folks in Abbeville can tell you what they were doing on March 8 when the train derailed in town.
Being a new resident of Abbeville County, I needed an updated driver’s license, so on Thursday, March 8, I decided to try for the second time to get that done at the Department of Motor Vehicles office. I had gone early the day before, only to discover that the office opens an hour later on Wednesdays.
So, off I went again on Thursday. I approached the intersection next to the Abbeville DMV office but had to stop because police officers were waving through some large trucks. I noticed the railroad equipment on board, but thought nothing of it.
I honestly couldn’t tell that the intersection was blocked off, so once the trucks were gone, I figured I could just make my left turn and quickly slide right into the DMV parking lot.
This was a mistake.
I turned the corner and here came Barney Fife, running after me and flapping his arms like a goose preparing to take off. I stopped and rolled down my window.
“Hey,” I greeted him. “Is there a problem?”
He wasn’t in a mood to chat. In fact, he launched into what can only be described as a tirade.
I started apologizing for whatever the heck I had just done, having no clue what that might be.
“I’m just going to the DMV, sir,” I said, completely befuddled.
“Not TODAY you’re not!,” he snarled. (Seriously, it was a snarl.) “It’s closed.”
“All day?” I sheepishly asked.
“Turn around and get outta here!”
Well, okay. I believe I’ll move back to Greenwood now, thank you very much, I thought.
It was apparent this guy wasn’t going to explain anything, so I turned around and headed to the post office to pick up a letter. When I arrived, the doors were locked. No sign on the door, no explanation.
So, I have moved to a Third World country, I decided. People just close things whenever they feel like it around here.
I thought I’d try my third errand—the bank. Surely they can’t close whenever the mood strikes.
(Mind you, I still had not heard a peep about the train derailment.)
I headed toward the square in Abbeville, where I encountered rescue squad vehicles, guys in hazmat suits, blocked intersections, and helicopters hovering. Even the dog catcher was out directing traffic.
Have mercy, al Qaeda has struck in Abbeville , I concluded. Who’d a thunk it?
I drove around like a rat stuck in a maze, wanting only to find some way back to my house.
When I continued to run into one roadblock after another, I called the newspaper and was told about the train derailment.
I finally understood all the weirdness I was encountering, literally, at every turn. It even explained Barney Fife’s behavior … well, sort of.
I was reminded that day of my deep aversion to confusion, and it got me thinking about something…
Many Christians believe that the Bible describes a future event called the “rapture of the church,” when followers of Jesus Christ will instantly be taken out of this world to be with Jesus. If you think that sounds crazy, please just suspend judgment for a moment and imagine what things would be like for those left behind.
Utter chaos and terrifying confusion.
My little taste of unsettling bewilderment on March 8 reminded me how glad I am that if the “rapture” happens to occur in my lifetime, I’ll be out of here with others who have placed their faith in Christ.
I won’t be left behind.
No one has to be.