Yesterday was one of those days when this pandemic was really getting to me. Tired, grumpy and stressed, I was not feeling much like a vessel of the Holy Spirit.
Do you have days like that?
My mood was so off, that when we were asked in our staff devotional time to think of something we were grateful for, I have to admit… I fumbled through my answer. I don’t even remember what I said, but I know that my heart wasn’t in it.
But then, on a walk with my husband and kids that evening, something happened that changed my whole perspective.
As we rounded a corner, we heard the sound of a motorcycle tearing toward us down the main street. Just as it arrived at the intersection, we were startled by an mighty “CRACK”. A car turning left had cut into the motorcyclist’s path. After a quick visual confirmation that my family were all safe, I dialed 911. A car was stopped in the intersection, half turned, the front ripped off and scattered on the road. The bike lay on the ground behind a parked van, mangled and leaking gasoline. The driver of the car was stunned but seemed otherwise fine… but then as the 911 operator picked up my call… where was the driver of the motorcycle? Standing at the crash, there was no one to be seen. He couldn’t just have vanished… right?
As my husband wisely removed our young kids from the scene, I stayed on the line with 911, searching with trepidation over what I might find. I ran up the road, looking for the driver, and then heard the shouts and moans of the injured man—over 100 ft from the smashed bike. His helmet was in the middle of the road; his shoes were scattered like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, marking his trail from the wreck to where he now lay. Stuck on his side and unable to move his likely-broken legs, he was calling for help. Others rushed ahead of me to his side, so I held back, acutely aware of the still present threat of COVID-19 and the gathering crowd, but within moments police and paramedics had flooded the scene, removing any necessity for any onlookers to linger.
With the man now cared for, and dismissed by the police, I walked away… and then it hit me. The bike had crashed just feet from my children. Hit from the side, the bike could have flown into us. Pieces could have hit us. The car could have jumped the curb. The driver himself could have been knocked right into us. Worst case scenarios ricocheted around my imagination.
I’ve seen only a few true miracles in my life, but let me tell you… this one tops the list. That the driver was alive after a high speed collision and 100 ft of airtime was a miracle. That my family was uninjured after being so close to a potential tragedy was a miracle. That people were there, willing to help despite the risks was a miracle.
I don’t use this platform to tell personal stories because this is where we share stories of our incredible churches. But on this one instance, I’m making an exception, because there is always place to express gratitude to our merciful Father. And Baptist family, I am very, very grateful.
These days are hard; the future opaque. It is a season of fear and anxiety and economic hardship, and there are no guarantees. But one thing is crystal clear to me in this moment.
God is with us.