Moments of mercy.

Last summer, while driving on the freeway with my four girls and my niece who was visiting for the week, we swerved to avoid a huge plank of wood blocking our lane of traffic.  Having rained the night before, the road was just slippery enough to send the van spinning to the right across another lane of traffic and the shoulder, and then bounding off the road, down a ditch, and through a barbed wire fence until it rested just under a billboard in the middle of a small field.  After frantically turning around to be sure all five passengers were all right, we bowed our heads in prayer to thank the Lord for sparing our lives.  We even drove through the field and home after filing a quick accident report. Aside from a few paint scratches and a ripped off front license plate, we've nothing to show for our near brush with death.

Every time we drive by the spot of our accident, the girls and I are again reminded of how many things could have (and didn't) go wrong that day.  Given our speed (at least 65 mph, knowing me, probably higher), and my rudimentary understanding of physics, we should have rolled the car.  With only a degrees of difference we could have gone off a much steeper embankment, or run into a cement barrier, or involved other vehicles in our tailspin, or, or, or... Truly, we were blessed.  I don't pretend to understand why God spares some from death (or injury) and others not, only to thank Him and make the most of it when I am the one spared.

Another noteworthy experience I feel to record before it passes.  One night this summer our family went to the pool together.  Tim and I were careful to keep a close eye on Eve, our only non-swimmer, who was playing in the deep end using a ring-like flotation device.  You know, the kind that have written in bold on the outside "this is not a life-saving device, close-supervision required" or something like that.  Anyway, Eve decided she was done swimming, so we both joined her on the patio while she dried off and we got lost in conversation with one another.  In the meantime, Eve slipped away quietly and got back in the water.  I noticed soon afterward and suggested to Tim that, although she'd never slipped out of her floatie before, we ought to at least sit by the side of the pool in closer proximity to her, just in case. 

Sure enough, within a minute of our arrival, she slipped through the hole in the ring and started flailing around in the water helplessly.  I was by her side in seconds, bringing her to the surface.  Tim was still sitting on the side of the pool, dumbfounded.  And dry, too.  It's good Eve can rely on my response time and not her dad's I suppose.  :)

Anyway, my point is, I didn't have some strong impression that Eve was going to fall out of her floatie that night.  But I believe the Holy Ghost was guiding me in ways that would have been barely noticeable except in retrospect, as it does so often.  Without it's guidance, we may not have discovered Eve until she was at the bottom of the pool, possibly too late to save her.  I shudder at the possibility, and I would be remiss if I didn't record these moments of mercy.