Temporary? Insanity

Our weekend trip away was lovely. I’d go so far as to say delightful. There was much walking hand in hand and the mutual appreciation of the beauty of the lakeside town we visited. We talked for hours and I felt myself to be happily drowning in the sharing of thoughts, an area of our life that has been afflicted by drought in recent months. Dancing and laughter and the joy of time with family members who we rarely see. And the key lime cheesecake? Oh my…do not get me started on the cheesecake.

And Erin, who is without a doubt one of those rare kindred spirits. Such a bittersweet thing it is to meet someone who you thoroughly enjoy but live so far from. And yet I wouldn’t trade it. She is as sweet, funny, and insightful as I’ve found her to be through her writing. And the little gift bag of birthday gifts she spoiled me with quite simply shocked me. To know me so well in a matter of months. Okay, I’m getting sniffly, and there’ll be enough of that once I get to the most emotionally charged portion of this.

My girls. Oh my girls. It doesn’t take much insight to imagine how the news struck me. The tightening of the chest, the tears that came even though we’d been assured they were okay. I keenly pictured to myself how terrified my girls must have been, and the guilt and horror my poor friend was feeling. To be entrusted with the care of someone else’s children and to have an accident like that take place. How she dreaded us returning her phone call.

She still can’t quite believe that we forgave her so quickly. So immediately. I likened it to a child spilling a glass of milk. You don’t get angry if it’s accidental. Maybe you do if they intentionally dump it on the floor and then grin at you afterwards, but not if it’s an accident (I told her that if she’d done it on purpose I would’ve kicked her arse then and there – that earned me a laugh or two, even if they did have a slightly hysterical edge).

Speaking of accidents, I want you to know how this one took place. It’s one of the hopes for a silver lining in all this, that this might become a cautionary tale for others. It was a situation where a child was shrieking because they’d dropped something and wanted it picked up and handed back to them. That. Instant. Natural instinct is to reach back and comply and shut off the grating sound of the child’s displeasure. I do this all the time. I had no idea what a risk it is. How easy it is to lose control. How easy it is to roll a car off the highway and down an embankment.

Pull over. Please. We experienced a miracle this weekend, but I don’t know how many miracles there are to go around. And spread this advice if you can. I’ll be submitting an article to our local paper in hopes of doing the same.

And speaking of miracles, our girls are fine. Becca didn’t even cry, and Emma just scolded our friend for “breaking mommy’s car” and told her “Mommy is gunna be soooooo mad!” No nightmares. No wounds or bruises. No fear of getting in another car the very next day. The first fellow on the scene knew first aid. Knew to turn off the car’s engine. Had the strength to yank open the mangled door trapping our children in the car. And a couple from church who were driving past the scene felt impressed to stop. Our friend’s relief at seeing familiar faces was profound, and they stayed with her and the kids until we made it home. The female half of the couple had actually had a similar experience (totalling a friend’s car with the friend’s kids in it) and was a huge comfort.

Emma’s fear of doctors that took root during her stitched up chin incident last week was overwhelmed by the kindness of the ER personnel who were on staff that day. Neil and I won’t be arguing over when to purchase the new vehicle we’ll be needing when our family finally grows again (Neil is a last minute type, I like to be prepared in advance – there would have been a bit of tension and stress over that issue). Neil said a prayer of gratitude in front his family who we were visiting with when we heard the news. Though they have no strong religious beliefs of their own, tears shone in their eyes as he closed the prayer.

On the drive home Neil and I talked a bit about our Heavenly Father. How he’s all powerful and all knowing. How he could have reached out and prevented the accident from happening, but instead reached out and kept everyone safe instead (we have no doubt of that – call it luck if you like, but we call it a miracle). We figure some purpose of His (or multiple purposes) must be served in this.

I’m thirty years old today, and never has a birthday come wrapped in such poignancy. I feel myself to be on the brink of so much newness. So much understanding and growth. As I struggle to absorb all the implications of this weekend’s events, not the least of which being intangible thoughts and feelings, I wonder what the coming year will bring.

I had intended to celebrate the day with much self-aggrandizement. Balloons and streamers and various other forms of attention seeking behaviour. And a giveaway volunteered by a lovely gal who I’m going to put off for a day or two. Not that I don’t feel like celebrating today, I certainly do. But I feel somewhat quietened by recent events and feel that the very exciting give away and this lovely, talented woman, deserve a spotlight all their own.

Thanks so much for all the expressions of concern and love, and the birthday wishes, cards, and parcels. I look forward to bragging and basking in the reflected glory of it all.

Tomorrow. Today is serving another purpose, I hope.