In The Blink Of An Eye.

This is the story of a normal everyday moment turning into a tragedy. This is the story that shows just how quickly life can change. But mostly, this is the story of how God holds us close in the midst of an impossible situation.

August and I were driving to a local Walgreens in hopes of finding the movie 'Courageous' available in their RedBox. We had dropped Robert off at Buffalo Wild Wings to order us supper, a special treat seeing as how we had not eaten out for months. One moment, we were happily bobbing along to the music coming through the speakers. One moment, all was well. One moment, however, soon became a nightmare.

We were sitting at a stoplight, the first car in the right thru lane. For an instant, I glanced at the car that pulled up next to me, never imagining that I would be seeing the driver in a horrifying way only seconds later. I turned my face to watch the cars coming from the other direction take advantage of their left turn light. A quick glance into the backseat showed August dancing in his carseat to the music on the stereo. I smiled, then looked back towards the cars still making their left turns, anxious for the light to change and us to be on our way.

Then, the world stopped.

I watched, terrified, as a pickup truck came barreling through the intersection directly toward our car. I was frozen. All I could do was stare at those headlights fast approaching. I don't remember much about that moment. I don't remember if I was preparing for the inevitable collision or completely free of thought. All I remember is those headlights flying at us.

Suddenly, the truck veered slightly to its right. I watched, terrified, as it smashed head-on into the car next to us. I saw the driver of the car slam into their vehicle's dashboard. I felt the vibrations of the impact. I heard the sound of the crash ring through my ears. I watched as the car flew back into the stopped traffic behind us, saw the truck not slow down at all. I heard more sounds of metal meeting metal, saw the taillights of the pickup speeding down the road.

I reached for my cell phone and, hands shaking, dialed 911. I wouldn't recall so at that moment, but later on Robert would remind me how I had asked him for my cell phone, which had been in his coat pocket, when we dropped him off, saying with a smirk, 'You never know when I'll need to call 911.' I flustered my way through the conversation with the dispatcher, pleading for help, being told to stay where I was and wait for the police. When the call ended, I dropped the phone and felt lost. What to do? Get out and check on those in the crushed vehicles? I couldn't leave behind August, who at this point was crying. I settled on pulling around to the other side of the median. I flipped on the hazards, parked behind a vehicle of a woman desperately trying to assist the injured and jumped out of the car.

Two teenage girls quickly pulled up behind me, the front driver's side of their vehicle crumpled from an impact of the accident. They ran to me and I remember hugging them and distinctly telling them, 'Be thankful to God your car was the only casualty of this accident.' We stayed together until the fire trucks arrived and the fire fighters separated us. I stood in the windy, below-freezing temperatures and simply stared at the wreckage surrounding me. One car sat demolished in the middle of the road, smoke rising from its hood. A man stumbled out, holding his face. I could see blood as he was ushered into the car of the woman parked in front of me, where he stayed until the ambulances came and the EMTs took him. It was about this time the lady from that vehicle and the two teenagers came to my car and told me the fate of the vehicle the truck had first rammed into. The impact had sent it across the median, through two lanes on the other side of the road and over the hill into a ditch. We would watch as the fire and rescue responders took the jaws of life over the side of the incline and would hear the whirring and crunching as they freed that driver from the twisted remains of the vehicle. We watched as they rushed the victim up the hill on a stretcher and into an ambulance. Once again, we were separated, this time to give statements.

I sat in the car and tried to calm August, who was wailing throughout the entire ordeal. A firefighter came over and asked to examine him. He walked away and soon returned with a teddy bear, telling me it was for August. I handed it back to him and he watched as he stopped crying and smiled at his new friend. I will be forever thankful to that man, though I don't know his name, for comforting a badly scared and shaken little boy in the middle of a terrible scene. He had so many other things to do, yet he made time to bolster the spirits of my son. I pray God blesses him greatly for his kindness.

Eventually, a police officer came over and spoke with me. As I was right next to the first car hit and in the front of the other traffic, not to mention the first 911 call, I was considered the primary witness to the accident. I struggled to pull up every detail I could, but mostly I struggled with emotions.

What would happen to the victims? Would they make it? Was the driver of the pickup drunk? My biggest emotion, though, was this: It was almost us.

It was almost August and I who were involved in the head-on collision. It could have been us flying across the road and over a hill. It could have been us lying in ambulances, fate uncertain. Even writing this now, hours later, I still find myself with tears in my eyes and unsteady hands. I'm not concerned about what could have happened to me, but if August would have been hurt or worse, I don't know what I would have done.

But that truck swerved slightly at the last possible moment and avoided us. Some may say it was luck. Some may say he was trying to right himself. Some may even say it was only coincidence. I say it was God.

God sent His angels to protect us tonight. I KNOW angels surrounded our car and turned that truck away. God delivered us from harm and I cannot go on from this day without telling any and all who will listen what He will do for those who love Him. That truck was inches from hitting us. Inches. Inches are nothing to God and His angels, though. Inches didn't stop Him from saving us. Inches didn't make Him go, 'Meh, nothing I can do now.' Inches gave Him the opportunity to show me just how mighty He is. Yes, others were hurt instead, and I can't answer to why God did not spare them from the accident, but I know He spared us. I tremble to think of what could have been. I rejoice in knowing what came to pass for August and I.

God is here. God is now. God is not Someone to worry about when you when you're older and facing the end of your life. God is Someone to follow, to believe, to love NOW. I've held on to faith in Him since I was ten, and if saving my little son was the best thing on this Earth to come out of that faith, I'm thankful beyond words. He didn't have to turn that truck, but He did. We could have gone Home to Heaven today, but we didn't. We live to see another day, a day that will not pass without me thanking the Lord for His miracles, His mercies and, greatest of all, His love.

It has recently been reported that the driver of the pickup suffered from a medical condition, which in turn caused the accident somehow. He ended up plowing into a building and was also taken to the hospital. At least four people are hospitalized right now due to the events of this evening. I don't know what their conditions, prognosis or outlooks are. I don't know their names, their ages, their hobbies, their beliefs, but I do know that I am connected to them through this unimaginable incident we all dealt with together tonight. They will suffer physical scars and long roads to recovery. I will struggle with grief for what they have experienced, but I refuse to grapple with fear. For August and I, God made a terrifying situation into an opportunity for testimony, and I will not allow Satan to blind me from God's tender mercies by making me a coward where driving, roads and vehicles are concerned. I will get back behind that wheel, August will get back in that carseat, and we will drive on knowing God is riding along with us every inch of the way.

Life can change in the blink of an eye. Don't wait for instances of terror to appreciate the family and friends in your life, and certainly don't wait for tragedy to turn you to God. He's waiting right now, arms wide open. The best part? He already loves you. What better testimony is there than that?

A Time To Be Thankful.

Recently, I've been following the painful, but incredibly inspiring, story of Tripp Roth, a toddler living with epidermolysis bullosa. EB is a condition wherein the skin is incredibly fragile, resulting in blisters and sores gained by even the slightest touch. Doctors didn't expect Tripp to survive his first year, but he made it two years and eight months.

Another child's journey I cared greatly about was Evan Sharp, an eleven-year-old here in Omaha who was diagnosed with Glioblastoma (brain tumor) in 2010. He never wavered, never faltered, never complained. No matter how bad things got (and let me tell you, he had a really brutal final year, not just with health but with personal issues), he constantly turned to God and told anyone who would listen that this was God's plan for him and he was okay with that.

Evan went Home on December twenty-first, and Tripp followed on January fourteenth. To their last breaths, they were strong, happy guys, images I'm sure their families are hugely fortunate to hold on to. For myself and many others following their fights, news of Evan and Tripp's passing, though expected, were still tragic and tough to deal with.

Being a mother (and especially being a mother who had a difficult pregnancy, a rocky birth experience and ultimately a baby struggling in the NICU), it's so hard to hear of another mother losing their little one. I often ask God, 'Why? Why babies? Why little children? Why not murderers, pedophiles? Why?' I know the answer will not come to me in this life. I know, like Evan knew, that everything happens according to God's Will, and, like Evan, I'm learning more and more to say, 'Your Will be done, Lord.' and believe, whole-heartedly, His Will is perfect and whole. I know every baby, every child who is formed, yet doesn't live to be born or doesn't live to grow up, had a purpose they fulfilled before going Home to God's arms. There is a rhyme and a reason to all things, good and bad. I know this, and I hold it close to my heart when terrible things happen.

Evan and Tripp remind me to hug my son whenever I can, no matter how hard he struggles to free himself from my embrace. They remind me to be grateful for every single moment, even when August is lying on the ground throwing a temper tantrum. They remind me to be slow to anger with my little man, because you never know when everything can change in an instant. They remind me to be full to bursting with love, because love is the greatest thing worth living for. Mostly, though, they remind me to hold fast to God and always be thankful for any and everything He allows me to go through, because every day, every minute is a blessing, a lesson and a chance to make memories that last when nothing else does.