When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed, When you are discouraged thinking all is lost, Count your many blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done. Are you ever burdened with a load of care? Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear? Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly, And you will be singing as the days go by. So, amid the conflicts, whether great or small, Do not be discouraged, God is over all; Count your many blessings, angels will attend, Help and comfort give you to your journey's end. Count your blessings, name them one by one; Count your blessings, see what God hath done; Count your blessings, name them one by one; Count your many blessings, see what God hath done.
I've been thanking God since 9:10 last night when I received the following text from my husband: wreck. call me.
If he could text, he was alive. Thank you, God.
I dialed his number. He was clearly disoriented and in pain. But if he could talk, he was alive. Thank you, God.
Panicked, I thought: what about the kids? Wake them? Drive them to what could be a traumatic scene? I called Amy, whose husband Rusty arrived approximately 6 seconds later, no questions asked. Thank you, God.
At the scene, I discovered two mangled heaps of truck, seven police cars, and two ambulances, lights blazing. My heart stopped. A kind officer gently directed me to the hospital. On the way, I called Michelle, whose husband Chris met me in the ER 6 minutes later, no questions asked. Thank you, God.
When I finally saw Seth, he was on a stretcher, neck braced and body tightly strapped. The love of my life- my strong, capable, helicopter-flying, hardworking, furniture making, cigar smoking, Iraq-veteran of a husband was there in front of me, immobile and confused. I've never loved him more. Thank you, God.
CT scans, x-rays, Cecil and Amy offering to spend the night with the kids... Thank you, God.
Broken ribs? Serious brain injury? Fractured ribs
. Mild concussion
... Thank you, God.
Chaos... then clarity... 8:50 PM: prayer time with Lily- 20 minutes before the text that started it all. Her usual prayer: Thanks for our family, our home, our life. Watch over Ryan in Afghanistan. Watch over Pop Pop and let him come home soon. Protect us from evil and help us be more aware of the things we do
...and then-almost an afterthought (and certainly not part of her typical routine) please protect Daddy on his drive home tonight. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God.
He works late most nights. He drives the same route each time. He's cautious at intersections. My daughter prays the same basic prayer time and time again, often urged to hurry so I can put the other children to sleep. But in one night everything was different. If that car had struck 1 millisecond earlier, Seth would have surely been killed, crushing into the driver's door instead of the front tire. And what if my daughter never called out to Christ on his behalf? What if I had rushed her through that part? Prayers aren't always answered the way we want them to be, but what if we never even ask? As it stands, life goes on... Seth is sleeping like a baby in our bed on what would otherwise be another very busy work day... and all I can do is thank God.