"ALL CLEAR!"

by Shauna V. Brown 

     Three houses down from my house, on Glenmare Street, lived the Davis family. Many of the neighborhood children were drawn there as they had a large, steep, driveway. It was a great place for all the youth to face death defying stunts, ride their wagons and man their bikes, roller skates during the summer. It was a thrill and spill driveway, because adjacent to the driveway were at least ten or twelve stairs leading up to the house. The stairs were avoided at all cost, as experience had witnessed many a blood gushing moment.

      One day Carolina Ball, Alene Davis and I were playing together. We were riding my red wagon down the driveway. Each of us would take turns manning the lookout position--watching for oncoming cars. One would take their turn pulling  the other to the top of the hill in the wagon.  Then when the signal was given would command the skill of steering the wagon down the hill. It might sound simple, but we realized the hazards. Each of us knew what bloody knees and elbows looked and felt like. When “All clear!” was yelled, we would jump into the wagon, and we were off. It was thrilling as the sudden rush of excitement and fear filled our young hearts. I was just eleven then.  Skill was demanded because if distracted, it was easy to crash on the curbing or vier off a safe path into the brush or hill on the opposite side of the driveway.  

    Carolina was taking her turn pulling me and the wagon up the driveway. We were almost to the top when we heard her mother call for her to come home.  Sighs of sadness were heard from all three of us. “Oh, not yet.”

“You can’t go!”  I extended. 

    “I’ve got to go! So, I’m going to let go of you right now!” Carolina said laughing.

      Instant fear flooded my mind as going down backwards on the driveway was obviously a hazard, a serious one. “You can’t!” I  countered, “I’ll get hurt! I can’t  guide it backwards!”    Then I loudly proclaimed, “If you do, Carolina, I will never talk to you again!” 

     To my surprise and horror Carolina let go of the wagon’s handle. I screamed as the wagon  began twisting and turning out of control.  I closed my eyes and yelled for help, as it quickly careened this way and that. I was praying all the while the wagon would miss the stairs. It swerved unmanned, zooming backwards down the driveway. I curled my body and clutched the sides of the wagon hoping all the while it would  miss the stairs. It seemed like forever as it traveled over the parking curb and into the street heading for a parked car. I held tightly wondering if in moments I would be smashed into a bloody mess. Gratefully it stopped inches from a crashing disaster. Carolina stood laughing, “You should have seen your face,Shauna!”   

        Alene stood frozen, “I thought you would be killed.”   

            “So did I,” I said looking quite upset at Carolina. I grabed hold of the handle and immediately set for home without a further word.   

      Now, imagine this.  Carolina and I had been best friends all our lives. She lived right across the street from me. We played together everyday. We walked to school - always. If we could have had friendship rings we would have had them for sure. But, remember my proclamation I yelled aloud? The promise, “If you let me go. . .”   

       Well I had heard somewhere, by someone, probably some Sunday talk at church, that one must stand true to their words spoken. To my young girl thoughts I was going to stand by my promise, and be true to them, I wouldn’t speak to Carolina ever again.  

     During that school year Carolina and her family moved away.  My best friend left, and I didn’t even have a “good-bye” for her.  

     Years passed, I got married, had children, yet all the time I thought about those words, my stupid stand, a promise.  Over thirty years, and I wondered if Carolina ever thought about me or our friendship and just how true to my promise I had been.   

     One Sunday, while standing in front of a large group of children during Sharing Time, I retold my dramatic story about the red wagon, the steep driveway. It must have been most visual as many of the children gasped aloud in fear.  Someone  yelled out, “What did you do?”  

     I sadly confessed, “I told her I would never talk to her again.”   

     “Did you?” 

     “No, and I feel so bad about it.” 

     It was during my talk that day that I gave myself a challenge. “I need to forgive myself and Carolina don’t I?”   Right in front of my young audience I realized I needed to let go of the feelings. I needed to forgive. I declared to the children that very day I would find where Carolina lived and give her a phone call and report back the next Sunday. 

      Thirty years and making a phone call? My mind kept saying, ‘it’s never too late.” 

        “Is this Carolina?” 

          I was surprised  when she instantly she replied,  “Shauna, how are you?” 

     She recognized my voice. We talked a few minutes, caught up and compared the number of children we had, where we had lived, and then I told her of the purpose of my call.  I reminded her of that day and the wagon experience. She couldn’t even remember it. 

          “Forgive you?” she asked. “Oh, I just thought you made new friends at school.” 

       One can only imagine my chagrin as I realized I had piled the regrets and sad feelings in my little red wagon for over thirty years, hoping all the while, during that time Carolina  had felt a twinge of regret allowing possible injury to her best friend, having betrayed our friendship-- where as she hadn’t even given it a second thought.  I had dramatically held onto my promised words, and never did speak to her again. In all truth I had become the one inflicted with an injured heart.  

        “I know it is a bad thing to break a promise, 

         but I think now that it is a worse thing to let a promise break you.”  ~ Jennifer Donnelly 

      So, that Sunday afternoon I stood at the top of my mind’s driveway, packed my little red wagon with the regret of holding onto a foolish promise, yelled “all clear,” and steered the wagon happily down the hill.  I screamed within and felt the wind in my face. I had made everything better, tossed the regret to the side. It was a freeing ride, a long awaited exhilaration.   Forgiveness is all about freedom.  

     Enjoy your Sabbath 

     Love always, 

     Shauna