Tonight I sat dinner with some wonderful ladies. We are at a week long study program. They are godly women. Kind and fun. I love these ladies!!
But one told the story of a car wreck her daughter was is. In detail!!!
Lots of details of how the cars hit, the airbags, how it almost rolled over, and more.
“O the miracle!”
“Angels were taking care of her!”
“So glad she was in a big car!”
“Prayers of a momma working.”
I just sat there. Unable to speak or leave.
I pictured the Taurus being hit by a semi. Of Andrew in the front passenger seat. Of Clint in the drivers seat with Julian in the middle. Eric and Amanda in the back with Timothy (the only survivor).
Thoughts going through my head:
“Do I say something?”
“Andrew didn’t get a miracle”
“Yes, I know what happens when a truck hits a car”
“I prayed for my kid, too. I know God heard my prayers. Do they not understand that He doesn’t always do what we want?”
“Why doesn’t she shut up?!”
“Please don’t cry, please don’t cry!!”
Today is 15 months. I don’t track the months or weeks anymore. But as I sat there, I realized what day it is.
I know they do not know my pain. They cannot understand. I am glad they do not understand. I am glad her daughter lived with only a few injuries. I really am glad. I do not wish my pain on those mommas.
And I know I used to say insensitive things as well. I used to tell stories like that. Of how God “was watching out for Adam” when he had a bad wreck or how God “watched over David” in Afghanistan. Stories of how “prayers work”. I used to tell those stories too. I did not understand how God works.
But now I know better. Now I know.