That's how "IT" got described in the Argus Leader. Nineteen words.
I am thankful "IT" only amounted to nineteen words. "IT" could have amounted to many more words in an entirely different section of the newspaper.
I choose not to dwell on that. I choose, instead, to dwell on giving thanks for a God whose hand of protection extended over us at 8:25 on Wednesday, November 26.
Us. My baby and I. My baby who won't remember a single thing about "IT". Who has not one scratch. Not one bruise. Not even a sore muscle from being whipped around. He didn't even have a shard of glass on him from the blown out window.
I choose to dwell on giving thanks for a God who brought along a calm and loving good Samaritan. Who calmed my baby when I could not get out of the car. Who warmed him up and then showed me his picture so I could know he was really okay. Who summoned my dearly beloved.
I choose to dwell on giving thanks for a God who swipped our van into a ditch and culvert instead of an oncoming car. Who allowed sore muscles and pretty purple bruises instead of surgery, casts, or coffins.
A split second was all it took. A fishtail followed by panic followed by a scream. But still I choose to dwell on giving thanks for a God who knew it was happening, who knows the outcome, and who knows me.
1 comment:
My dear, dear Suzanne, I fight the tears when I think of all the what ifs. Thank you for reminding me to dwell under the shadow of the Almighty. Beautifully written.
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