I passed a bad car wreck leaving work today. A metal tool box had been knocked off a truck and twisted. There were work boots and tools and a cooler and all sorts of things all over 401. The tools reminded me of my brother. I didn't see the truck itself, but I did see two cars that had clearly been hit. One of them was a minivan with a handicap sticker, and the entire front of the vehicle was gone.
It brought back memories of another crash almost four years ago, when my sister was chaperoning a group of children from church to see the Christmas lights at the zoo. A car pulled out in front of the van, the driver swerved to miss, and the van went airborne, flipping into a ravine. Two truckers behind them immediately stopped, radioed for help, and headed down the hill. By the time they got there, my niece and the other 5 girls were at the back doors attempting to get them open (the van was upside down, head first). When I went with my brother-in-law a few days later to take pictures of the van for the insurance company, you could still see all their little footprints in dried mud. For a long time they couldn't find my sister, the youth pastor, his wife, or one of the students from Bible College. Once the firemen arrived and started cutting out the seats, they began to see more. The water from the ravine had flooded the van, and coated them in mud. My sister was in critical care for several days. I was driving back and forth to Florence, SC, and pouring out my heart to our Great Physician with every mile I drove.
That memory came back again today for another reason. My younger sister met/is meeting with a specialist about a lump. And again, I find myself trying not to worry and talking to my Great Physician. I like to think that the four of us will be old one day and live near each other and hang out at each other's houses and swap stories and argue. But the reality is that life is brief - a vapor, the Bible says - and I'm not guaranteed those tomorrows.
That's a very sobering and unpleasant thought, especially for a maddening Monday.
It brought back memories of another crash almost four years ago, when my sister was chaperoning a group of children from church to see the Christmas lights at the zoo. A car pulled out in front of the van, the driver swerved to miss, and the van went airborne, flipping into a ravine. Two truckers behind them immediately stopped, radioed for help, and headed down the hill. By the time they got there, my niece and the other 5 girls were at the back doors attempting to get them open (the van was upside down, head first). When I went with my brother-in-law a few days later to take pictures of the van for the insurance company, you could still see all their little footprints in dried mud. For a long time they couldn't find my sister, the youth pastor, his wife, or one of the students from Bible College. Once the firemen arrived and started cutting out the seats, they began to see more. The water from the ravine had flooded the van, and coated them in mud. My sister was in critical care for several days. I was driving back and forth to Florence, SC, and pouring out my heart to our Great Physician with every mile I drove.
That memory came back again today for another reason. My younger sister met/is meeting with a specialist about a lump. And again, I find myself trying not to worry and talking to my Great Physician. I like to think that the four of us will be old one day and live near each other and hang out at each other's houses and swap stories and argue. But the reality is that life is brief - a vapor, the Bible says - and I'm not guaranteed those tomorrows.
That's a very sobering and unpleasant thought, especially for a maddening Monday.
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