I answered the phone early this morning, way earlier than what I normally ever do because I never seem to remember to flip the switch from silent to ringer, and I couldn't exactly hear through the broken signal what was happening, but I knew something wasn't right.
My husband said accident and at first my mind went to mentally collecting a new pair of pants for my oldest son, but then I realized when he asked me to come quickly that it had nothing to do with a bathroom miss and everything to do with the collision of cars crunching beneath the early morning November sun.
Amid broken conversation and wind whipping into the phone, crackling in my ear, I gathered my courage and our youngest son, stepped out the door, stepped out in faith and drove four blocks to where metal met metal and lives met with out of control.
There are moments that seemingly stand still, and as I stopped my own car I took in the views of the ones before me: the driver's side of our car completely smashed into the frame of our car and her car, hood crunched and down an entire front bumper.
I wondered at how husband even managed to get out of the driver's seat, his car door was so smashed. I watched as my oldest son climbed through the backseat to the other side to exit, his door too mangled to even open.
I gasped as I looked at the brokenness -- the metal and plastic -- spread out before me
and I almost cried in the face of it
I looked at the faces of my husband and son, stunned and upset,
and the woman driving the other car and the two kids in her backseat, also shaken,
but very clearly not broken.
Everyone walked away from the scene of the crash without major injury.
I thought for a fleeting moment what broken really could have looked like for three different families
before I realized fully and intimately
that the only broken before us was
that of metal and plastic.
I thanked God in that moment that the metal and plastic absorbed so much of the force, protected the people inside them, but I didn't want to think anymore about the brokenness because it almost seemed too heavy to let it linger too long in my mind.
Not long after that, we were sitting in the hospital, my boys getting checked out, when I posted a call for prayer on Facebook.
A friend tagged me in an update soon after I posted saying that the post immediately following my request was from Psalm 30:5:
" … His favor lasts a lifetime …"
She encouraged me to ask in His name that His favor would surround me like a shield. And as we prayed those words, I thought that perhaps His favor surrounding us like a shield today looked a lot like the brokenness of plastic and metal … just like the favor that surrounds me like a shield for a lifetime and eternity looks a lot like the brokenness of Jesus on the cross.
But brokenness isn't the end of the story; no, there's life beyond the scattered plastic and metal, just like there's life beyond the cross.
And that makes me able to look brokenness in the eye
walk in the courage of faith over the scattered pieces.
Thanks for praying with us today. We are thanking God that the only real brokenness that occurred today was plastic and metal. John is sore tonight and has a slight headache and G is a little sore, too, but they are on the mend. We praise God for his shield of protection today.