|Car selfie, he loves that I make him do this!|
It was also the first time we've been together in the car where 'it' happened. Where I thought I had lost him. Where Jesus literally took the wheel and a 911 dispatcher became one of my greatest coaches (and I've had some really great coaches!). Where he looked at me and said, "I'm ok, calm down."
It's been two weeks since it happened and for the most part we are back to normal. The first few days, I struggled when he'd drive....what if it happened again? But, it was such an anomaly that the fear faded and my nerves have calmed. I even chuckled a little recalling the story to a friend who hadn't heard...the first time I didn't sob, or get choked up as I said the words.
But, being out together, two things came to mind that keep coming back to me today.
First, as we made our way into Louisville last night, at the same mile markers and exit where his episode occurred, I was amazed again to realize, of all the details I remember, I have no memory of driving, or the traffic around us. I thought, as I looked around at the other cars, we have no idea what's happening in there. What the conversation is, or where they are going, or why. How many cars passed us that night, completely unaware of the fact my husband was going into shock, or that I may, or may not have actually had my hands on the wheel, that I was screaming and scared, or that I was calling 911? All of them, I guess. Why would any of us concern ourselves with what is happening in someone else's car?
It's not like that will change for me. I doubt I will think of, or crane my neck to see, what is happening as I pass others on the road, but it did occur to me, we just have no idea. Maybe as that car slows suddenly, or swerves into my lane, I could refrain from my usual angry driver banter and offer a little grace. A little prayer of, "protect them Lord" as I move along my merry way.
And second, I am deeply in love with this man. I'm sure this is a mostly obvious kind of statement. People that know us well, know that we are that, always sit together, always hold hands, always professing our love, kind of couple. I've had those thoughts of how hard it would be without him, how much I would miss him, but in those reflective moments he's always right there with me, sharing the same sentiment about me.
Those moments, while only a matter of seconds, fall into the very small stack of game changers I've experienced in my forty years. Those things that cause you to look at your life just a little differently. To wake up and really see. We all know, and have probably said things like, 'life is short, make it count', or some other random cliche`, but when I was hit with how fragile his life was, my goodness. This strong man who is supposed to take care of me, keep me safe, lift me up when I fall. He was weak, and vulnerable, and helpless, just like the rest of us. People, life really is a miracle. All of it. And every one of us will someday have that moment when the fragility of our life is upon us. When we are not in control. When either we, or those around us, realize, this could be it. Are you prepared for that?
I know two things after this experience. I know I love the way my hand feels in his. Everything about it says I am his and he will hold me close for all his days. Everything else that goes along with that is pretty great too, but his hands....the way they hold me...I love that. And I know, if he had gone that night, that he would be with his Creator, dancing and singing and praising, and even though the fear of that reality is pretty great, I also know what great peace will come with that knowledge.
John 3:16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
If you don't know Him: Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you. (Matthew 7:7)