Today is Thanksgiving Day.
I hope you all had as wonderful a day as we did.
Our day stopped being wonderful about 8 PM.
Our son Justin headed out, with instructions (as usual) to call when he got back to his apartment in Roseburg; about 75 minutes away. Fifteen minutes later he came back in, disheveled and wet. Turns out, he wrecked his car on a tight curve near our home. Not only did he wreck the car, but he ended up UPSIDE DOWN in the CREEK. We are bowing our heads in gratitude this evening for the safety of a child. Of all the children. Justin could have been knocked unconscious and drowned in the blink of an eye. I can't seem to say "Thank You" enough tonight.
Our day stopped being wonderful about 8 PM.
Our son Justin headed out, with instructions (as usual) to call when he got back to his apartment in Roseburg; about 75 minutes away. Fifteen minutes later he came back in, disheveled and wet. Turns out, he wrecked his car on a tight curve near our home. Not only did he wreck the car, but he ended up UPSIDE DOWN in the CREEK. We are bowing our heads in gratitude this evening for the safety of a child. Of all the children. Justin could have been knocked unconscious and drowned in the blink of an eye. I can't seem to say "Thank You" enough tonight.
You know, it was nothing to have him leave; to go back to his own home and call me when he got there. It is nothing to send the girls to the store, or to let them come home late-like last night-after a late movie with their friends. Do we hug them hard enough when they leave? Do we say "I Love You" enough, just in case? Do we hug them upon returning, happy they are back?
I've also reflected on a habit that we adopted several years ago.
Before we leave the driveway we have a "traveling Prayer". Every time we get in the car.
I have witnessed a couple of occasions when I KNOW--beyond doubt--that the Lord's hand protected us. I know again, after tonight, that He was once again on the road with a member of my family. How humbly grateful I am for the tender mercies of the Lord.