Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Awake to life.

My tired head bobbed with each bump on the icy, Idaho roads. I'd noticed that the shuttle driver for this night run seemed a bit reckless, but I'd talked myself calm, assuring my worried side that I'd be home to my children when I awoke.

Out of a foggy rest I started, now incredibly alert, with an intense feeling that the end of my life had come. That I should say my goodbyes. I prayed then, amidst the sleeping passengers, in complete panic.

I selfishly pleaded my potential as a mother. I promised I was of more worth alive than as a memory, or that I would become a more valuable instrument in the hands of God. The moments passed in very personal (and frightening) thoughts and communion until abruptly I felt peace in a prayer answered. I knew then more than ever that my life is a gift not to be taken for granted.

I calmed just as all the other passengers woke up gasping and shrieking, falling to the side as the driver whipped around a breaking car that he had been following too closely, a semi-truck nearly grazing the tail-left (where I was sitting) of the van. Horns honking, he accelerated over the winter highway, finally resettling at a safe pace and distance from other vehicles.

Some wide-eyed acquaintances exchanged words of fright and anger. I cried a little as I dozed, whispering gratitude, in a small chorus with a few others, I suppose.

The fox-holes of life are nearly always accompanied by promises to be better, no?

Maybe it is because when our hearts become aware of the frailty, value, and beauty of our own lives, the next step is to do something with that knowledge.

Yesterday I nearly crashed my bike into a concrete wall at the bottom of a steep hill, toting a precious load. Having promised the library, I thanked my Heavenly Father that it happened near a cozy, used-book-store (aka, the new library), and a cafe with peanut-butter cookies.

I ruined my shoes trying to stop us. And you really don't want to see my toe.

But I cannot deny that my life is rich and good, and that the Lord is with me when I pray. That there are great wonders all around us to be appreciated and savored.

And today is the time to live life-dreams. Maybe even the last time.

I'm going to learn how to draw.... Thank you, bookstore....Starting with the basic requests of boys: Boats, Cars, Trains, Dinosaurs, and Spider-man.

Warning: Do not try this at home. Near-death experiences are not required for greater awakening and life appreciation.

7 comments:

nomadicbark said...

Oh my gosh, so glad you and your family are safe! God is always watching over us!

jdavissquared said...

oh you poor thing. i'm glad you're all okay! sad for your shoes. :(

Rach said...

loved this, sorry about your toms, they really were rad shoes.

prettybaby said...

wow, that's scary. sending you a hug, so glad you're safe & sound! xx

Glo said...

It didn't register when you told me about this last night. I am ever so greatful that you and your cargo were safe. I'm so sorry about your shoes. And even more sorry about your toe. I'm Impressed that a prayer was the first thing you thought about. You're a brave soal and I love you for that. I'm so glad that the combination of concrete and gravity didn't get you, and that you made the best of it by discovering the new book store. - Mom
PS Are you getting different breaks on your bike?

Miriam said...

you're always so thoughtful and inspiring in your writing. mixed with a bit of hilarity at times and always gratefulness. I love reading, so thanks for sharing :)

Laura said...

I was sick a little bit with panic for you when I read this and then my heart just tore in half when I saw your shoes and thought of your toes :(