A Near-Tragic Reminder

"Our days on earth are like grass;

like wildflowers, we bloom and die."

Psalm 103:15

     Only yesterday evening, our vehicle moved along the highway with a seemingly constant dark cloud overhead -- both figuratively and literally.  The weather was dull and rainy, the kids were bickering in the back, my mood had grown miserable, and I'm sure my husband would have pushed an eject button for his seat had there been one.  Just one of those car rides that was lasting a little too long . . . and then it happened.

     As we crested the top of a hill on the four-lane highway, we all saw the scene before us simultaneously -- two cars had smashed only moments prior, debris was everywhere and no emergency vehicles were on the scene.  My husband quickly pulled our vehicle over beside a small, black, twisted car and said, "There's a baby in that one, hurry." 

     I jumped out and rushed to the driver's side to see what meager help I could offer, wishing I had more than standard first aid. 

     A moment in time when I felt my head try to prepare my heart for the worst.

     "HELP MY BABY!  HELP MY BABY!"   The cries that hit my ears were those of the frantic driver of the car.  Blood poured down her arm and glass covered her now-stained, pink sweatshirt.  She already had removed the baby from the car seat, so hoping I wouldn't make any pending injuries worse, I took the baby from her arms and grabbed paper towel to press against the woman's gash. 

     The baby screamed as I held onto her, but other than a few small shards of glass over her, she seemed alright.  The woman made some panicked phone calls on a cell phone as I tried to steady her with my free arm.  Within moments, a few police officers arrived and soon after two ambulances.  The attendants took the baby and whisked her and the woman away in the emergency vehicle.  The police officer asked us a few questions and suddenly we were free to go on our way.

     The problem is, how do you "go on your way" after witnessing something like that?  

     You just get in your car and drive away and pretend life is rosy?  Never!  I discovered that evening.  Our kids had witnessed the whole event from the safety of their car seats.  My husband had stood near watching for how he could help.  I had just held a baby whose life had been inches from tragedy.

     In that instant I learned that bickering is more trivial than I realized.  That life is more fragile than I had remembered. 

     As we drove away and prayed for those in the accident, one of my children said from the backseat, "If we had been there one minute earlier we might have seen what happened." 

     To which my older child responded, "No, we might have been what happened!"

     We let the soberness of that thought sink in for a moment and then processed the delicateness of life together.  How we need to treasure each other and every moment we are given, and be sure that we are keeping short accounts of wrong while extending generous amounts of grace.  And realize everything that we often take for granted can change in a heartbeat.

     I share this near-tragedy in hopes that it may be a reminder beyond the walls of our vehicle -- that the next time a fight erupts in the backseat, we make every moment and word count as if it could be our last ones . . . and couldn't that look different?

  "Mercy, peace and love

be yours in abundance."

Jude1:2