A month of so after the accident, we were on our way home from physical therapy, nearly at our driveway, when a thought struck me – and it hit like a fist gripping my heart. We have not been inoculated to tragedy.
The unthinkable happened; we were in a terrible car accident and lost our daughter. Terrifying experiences like this surface in our worst dreams, the ones that wake you in the night and it takes a few moments to realize that although your heart is pounding and you’ve broken out in a sweat, it’s not real; it’s only a dream. But for us, it was not a dream, this really happened.
A sliver of me wants to believe that the worst is over; our quota of suffering has been met and God will never deal us another blow this severe.
But that’s not how life works and it’s not how God works. I can’t imagine ever living through something this painful again, but the reality is that we don’t hold our future in our own hands.
I remind myself again that our Father is good, he is loving, and his ways are higher than mine. We’re at his mercy.
I weep just writing these words – I want to plead with God to be gentle with us. Please, please don’t make us go through anything like this again. Fear rises in my throat. I breathe and remind myself of God’s love. His promises are true; he will never leave us.
I can’t say that I’ve conquered my fear; the false bubble of security I once had is gone forever. It’s difficult for me to ride in a car at 60 mph, and even more of a struggle to let my children go just about anywhere.
I want to trust, but when it comes right down to it, I only know that no matter what, we will never be alone. In the midst of tragedy, in the rubble, He was there. The presence of the Holy Spirit was thick around us. We felt the gift of God’s peace, his comfort – there is no way to explain what we experienced – none.
I wrote this many weeks ago, and as we approach six months, these thoughts are still very fresh. Just yesterday morning in church, the memory of being trapped in the car, the cold air around me, the confusion and not knowing if my daughter was okay, all came rushing back. I literally clasped my hands together and put them to my chest – as if praying. But really, I was instinctively trying to contain the rush of fear I was feeling. I prayed, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” and thought about the power and peace of his name. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I tried not to cried out loud.
We need him – we need Jesus, every moment. We may face more tragedy in our lives, but we will not face it without our savior.
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