I knelt down this evening to offer the most sincere and humble prayer of thanks and gratitude I could muster. The type of prayer I think really only a mother can understand.
But I'm getting ahead of myself...
Today was a good day. The kind of day when you can't help but take a step back and notice. You know, the kind of day when you are awoken, an hour later than usual, by the laughter of a happy baby playing in his crib. The kind of day you DREAD because grocery shopping is on the agenda, but your mischievous boy manages to stay in his seat the entire time, never once asking for a treat, or screaming "POOP!" at complete strangers at the top of his lungs. The kind of day when everything at the grocery store you want to buy is on sale, and your one week budget stretches to purchase two weeks worth of food. Add to that the 3.5 hour nap my little guy took, and I was on top of the world!
Ironic how everything can change in an instant.
We had such an enjoyable day together, me and that little Miles of mine. And the weather was PERFECT outside. So we drove downtown to Bishop Park. It's a beautifully massive park right on the Detroit river. We go there often to run and play on the playground, chase the seagulls, and watch the fishermen on the pier. The place never disappoints, and today was no exception.
When Miles and I were completely tuckered and could not muster the strength to slide one more time, I scooped him up and loaded him for the short 5 minute drive home. And then I don't know what happened......
Maybe I was lost somewhere between exhaustion and motherhood bliss. Maybe I was distracted by my own incessant mental dialogue, or I was replaying my good fortunes of the day in mind to enjoy a second time. I just don't know.
But one thing I DO know: I never saw the stoplight. What I did see was a large Chevy Silverado. Close. Much too close. I tried to turn, and he tried to turn, but impact was unavoidable. In the blink of an eye, my perfect day was smashed to smithereens all over the intersection at Biddle and Cedar.
I was buckled, and I was okay. And I saw the man getting out of his truck. He was okay. And my sweet sweet screaming baby in the backseat, he would be just fine once the scare was over. The police were summoned, an ambulance arrived (no one needed it), witnesses gathered, and later a tow truck driving man (who heard the whole thing on his police scanner) towed my beloved RAV away.
I have never been one for public displays of emotion. "Public" meaning around anyone but myself. I have developed an uncanny ability to keep it together until I can find a quiet time, usually very late, to be alone. Then the walls come crumbling.
Which leads me to my tearful conversation I had with God tonight. I thanked him for watching over us and expressed my gratitude that neither myself nor the gentleman I hit were injured. I thanked him for the kind and forgiving heart of that same gentleman who, when I apologized over and over said," well, that's why they call it an accident." I expressed my utmost gratitude for the passers-by who rushed to my car and to my side, offering assistance to me, a complete stranger, and my baby boy. I thanked him for a hard working police force who arrived in only minutes. I was ESPECIALLY thankful for a wonderful husband who, I could tell was boiling mad under the surface, but put his arm around me and simply said "I'm glad both of you are okay." But I saved my most heart felt pleas for last.
"Thank you, Thank you Dear Lord, for watching over and protecting my precious baby. Thank you for keeping him safe. I don't know if I deserve it, but I will continue to do everything I can to show You I did. Amen."