Fixing My Eyes

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It’s only been a couple days since the accident, so I assume this image will eventually stop invading my brain when I’m lying in bed at night – the back of the blue Nissan rushing at me at a terrifying speed while my foot pounds on the brake, my hands clench the steering wheel, and the tires screech on the pavement . . . and then a dusty white airbag explodes into my face and I wonder for a split second if I’m about to die.

I’m fine, for the record – physically, at least. A big, ugly, black bruise on my upper left thigh and a little stiff in the joints, but that’s it. The guy in the Nissan is fine, as is the Nissan. My van is NOT fine. The insurance company hasn’t gotten back to me yet, but I suspect the faithful Sienna has seen its last days. It could have been worse, SO MUCH worse. I have so much to be thankful for, and I am.

But I keep seeing that blue Nissan rushing at me when I close my eyes. 

After several agonizing years wondering where in the world God was, 2021 has been a blessing. Weights were lifted. Security surprised me. Joy returned. I was seeing God in everything. Life has been so good. But I’ve been bracing myself for the end of these sweet times . . . afraid of hard things happening again (because of course, they will) and losing sight of God once more. Please don’t hide again, Lord. Please stay close when the bad times come back. Please . . . just SHOW UP.

December has felt like the end of my reprieve. And Thursday’s car wreck officially shut the door on the honeymoon. Back to the real world again. The real world is real. And hard.

About two minutes after the collision, an ambulance pulled up behind me. While the guy was checking my vital signs, I asked how in the world they got there so fast. Turns out, they were actually on their way to a hospital to transport someone from one facility to another. “But this kind of accident trumps that job,” he said, so they stopped. They just happened to be driving by.

And I saw God there.

The guy in the Nissan was kind of a character – at first, he reminded me of Stanley in “The Office”. He spoke in grunts and hardly looked at me, and I was afraid he was furious (which was a trigger and probably helped keep me shaken up for as long as I was). But later he checked on me a couple times to be sure I was okay. Before he drove away, I thanked him for being as gracious as he was (the accident was all my fault), and he said, “Oh, honey, God gives us all grace.” I started to cry.

God was there, too.

I rode in the tow truck to the repair shop, and the driver made small talk with me, probably trying to calm me down (yes, I was still visibly shaken). Without intending to at all, I ended up telling the poor man a brief overview of my life story from the last few years, basically in an attempt to explain why I was going to be alone for the holidays and why this was not cause for him to pity me. As I got out of the vehicle, he said, “Well, ma’am, I wish you the best and I want you to know I’ll be praying for you.” I cried again.

And there was God again.

This morning, David Platt posted on Facebook a meditation over 2 Chronicles 20:12: “Oh our God, will you not execute judgment on them, for we are powerless against this great hoard that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

Powerless. Bad things are going to happen again. A great hoard. I can’t stop them. I know that.

I do not know what to do.

But my eyes are on You.

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