Con­tin­u­ing to live your life through God’s grace

I t h G

Record Observer - - Opinion -

Some­times you have an “aha” moment that leaves you just a lit­tle speech­less. If you know me, speech­less isn’t of­ten one of the qual­i­ties I use to de­scribe my­self. But this par­tic­u­lar event left me not only speech­less, but re­flec­tive.

Some­times you have days where you ques­tion your faith. Other days we just wan­der through life not re­ally ques­tion­ing any­thing at all, merely go­ing with the flow.

Maybe that in­cludes mak­ing choices that aren’t ex­actly in keep­ing with our own moral code. Maybe it’s let­ting the at­ti­tude slide in that car­ries just a lit­tle neg­a­tive edge or less than gen­er­ous thoughts about oth­ers. I’ve been in all of those places more fre­quently than I care to ad­mit. Self­ishly ab­sorbed in my own lit­tle bub­ble, devil may care and who needs this af­ter all.

We were trav­el­ing home from a thor­oughly en­joy­able day at our Mia’s pool, my­self and the munchkins, when I de­cided to stop for some fresh sweet corn to go with sup­per later. Traf­fic, as it is this time of year was heavy, but not yet un­bear­able. But in that split sec­ond af­ter I placed on my turn sig­nal to cross the high­way our lives were nearly changed ir­re­versibly.

What I and my boys saw when I glanced up was an 18-wheeler com­ing up be­hind us, eas­ily 60 mph, with no in­ten­tion of stop­ping or slow­ing. With a breath and a prayer I was able to ma­neu­ver across a lane and a half and slide into the park­ing lot of the pro­duce stand. He missed us by inches.

My old­est climbed out, “I have got to get out of the car Mom,” he said, his lit­tle brother right be­hind him. I was still grip­ping the steer­ing wheel, lit­er­ally as if our life de­pended on it, and the lit­tlest still sound asleep in her car seat.

There were no words at that moment, but “Thank you, God. Thank you.” My relief was pal­pa­ble that we had avoided what could have been a fa­tal col­li­sion. My boys came and let me hold them tight. At that mo- ment I had a sense of security and ex­treme thank­ful­ness.

The boys must’ve been a lit­tle more shook up than even they let on be­cause still later in the day I over­heard them dis­cussing how glad they were to have each other and that they were go­ing to be nicer to each other. Even at 7 and 12 they re­al­ized some­thing most of us go through life bliss­fully ig­no­rant of, life is short and life is pre­cious. And these fam­ily mem­bers who some­times get on our nerves and get less than our best selves are a gift. A bless­ing.

I’m thank­ful to­day. Thank­ful for sec­ond chances and pro­tec­tion. Thank­ful for teach­able mo­ments and the op­por­tu­nity to have more teach­able mo­ments. Thank­ful for these pre­cious chil­dren that God saw fit to make me (me!) a mother to even though many days I feel less than qual­i­fied. That night, my hus­band held us a lit­tle closer. I know he was grate­ful, too.

We don’t have the op­tion to go through life free from care or wor­ries, and I don’t be­lieve in a God who mag­i­cally pro­tects us from all harm, but I do know that we are guarded in His will. Go with grace.

HAN­NAH COMBS

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from USA

© PressReader. All rights reserved.