My first instinct is to tell you what a terrible month it's been. I mean, if these things happened to you, you'd probably think it pretty terrible, too.After all, it's not everyday that you see your life flash before your eyes. That kind of thing tends to happen when you're taking a trip, round a dark corner in your minivan stuffed with all of your children, half of their belongings, and your husband at the helm and suddenly become blinded by the oncoming headlights of a semi-truck. In our case, the occupants of our vehicle became silent. Wide-eyed and silent. As if that weren't scary enough, once the semi-driver realized that he was in our lane, approaching our vehicle in a very wrong way, he jerked himself back into his lane, leaving his trailer to struggle to follow suit around the curve. I watched as our lane grew more and more narrow, the semi-trailer approaching on our left, a steep drop-off and dense forest loomin on our right. My husband kept his wits, drove steady-on, and we were soon (though it felt like years) on the other side of the whole ordeal, breathing deeply and fighting the urge to vomit. After I was able to speak, I asked Bo, "What were your thoughts just then?"
"I knew it was over. I knew it would be quick and no one would be left behind. A truck hitting us at 60 is like hitting a brick wall at 120. It would have happened very quickly and painlessly."
"Then after the cab passed, what did you think then?"
"Then I was scared. We'd either hit the trailer, or we'd go off into the trees. And that...that would have been painful."
The rest of the drive to my sister-in-law's house was relatively uneventful, but those few moments kept my heart racing and my mind turning.
These are the kinds of moments that have peppered the last few weeks. A missing toddler; an emergency brake that didn't release and cost over $700 in repairs; triplet kids born to a nanny goat who decided that one of them wasn't worth worrying about so she rejected it, leaving it to die; time on the treadmill that made it feel like I'd been regressing instead of progressing; an close to midnight discovery of a fire in our laundry room that almost burned out of control and could have taken our whole house.
All of this packed into less than a month. Less than three weeks, actually.
And my first reaction is to tell you how horrible these three weeks have been.
But I can't do that, can I?
Because the semi-truck missed us. The toddler was found. The brakes didn't give out until we got home from Cincinatti. The goat kid was brought to health thanks to a very knowledgeable friend and goat-lover. I was able to hit the trail instead of the treadmill and do better than I'd thought I would. My husband was able to put out the fire, and only a dryer and a few items of clothing were lost.
In addition, we didn't owe money in income tax. Neither did our daughter, or my live-in father. We actually got money back! I've begun working at the greenhouse, and my first paycheck went towards paying for the brake repairs. A distant family member sent $1300 for the children's education, just in time to make a decision about Bard's trip to Germany this summer, though the family member knew nothing about the Germany trip. And several people have sent Bard money for her trip, so she will indeed get to go. Bo turned forty, and his family gave him a wonderful surprise party, blessing him with their time and gifts.
How can I focus on the near-tragedies, when God has made them all into miracles?
It's been a fabulous month, and I thank God for it.
Drawing of the church by Monet when he was 9.
