}gratefulness{

(the glasses survived.)

((photocredit: dad went to see the car in the junkyard and took pics. i don't get why{?}))

I intended to write nothing about tuesday. But I've been persuaded otherwise, because it's a testimony of God's grace. & such excitement isn't an everyday occurrence...

Driving to work that dreary Tuesday morning was just another day. The usual cars ran the usual stop signs. I noticed a Ford 250 hauling a trailer facing me, waiting to make a left turn. Common sense said he'd be there a long time. My car was less than 20ft away when he started turning. I slammed my brakes...it was so fast there was no time to think. As the dust settled, I realized it wasn't a little fender-bender. My ford's hood had slid under his bumper. My seatbelt wouldn't come loose, my door was jammed; toxic smoke mingled with airbag dust. Claustrophobic fear washed over me as I stared at the truck grill inches away from my cracked windshield...God showed me such kindness. Not only did He stop the truck from coming through the windshield, but also He surrounded me with compassionate people. The truck driver told the cops the truth (I had the right of way). The driver behind the truck stopped and turned my eyes upward: "God's watching out for you. You've no idea how He took care of you today". The firefighters were hilarious & kept me laughing so I never had a chance to cry. ("where's your pulse?" "she doesn't have a pulse, she's dead.") Mum came and helped me get my life out of my car. (despite my ridiculous phone call. "hey, can you tell annie i'll be late to work? i've been in a wreck i'm fine. but the car's not. click.")
I didn't go with the firefighters to the hospital cause I was fine. I thought I'd make it to work in the afternoon...haha. By the time we got home, I was so dizzy and sick I could hardly see. I lost my breakfast & my right side went numb head-to-toe. Mum dragged me to ER. I was to out of it to protest. I don't remember much...signing my name best I could when I couldn't see the line...praying...involuntarily breaking down in tears, just wanting to sleep so I didn't feel any more...crying more cause I felt bad for whining...at some point dad came and prayed for me...the IV kicked in, pain lessened to bearable and I just felt like a fool. I laid there wondering why I wasn't dead, why I wasn't in a coma, why God saved me. Meanwhile, Mrs J called Mum for something and Mum told her. It seems half the church knows. My parents never even called anybody (i would kill them). There was nothing wrong internally so the ER folks let me go with prescriptions. I thought it wasn't that big of a deal, but Mum said maybe everything was clear because so many people were praying. I don't know. I don't think it matters. God is faithful. I have good friends either way.

One good thing to come out of this is that I'll pray more earnestly for the people I know battling cancer. They endure pain on such a grander scale that I can't even imagine. I can't imagine endless IV's, drinking contrasts, CT's, chemotherapy, needles, etc being my everyday life.

Thanks:
My fam, doing for me everything I couldn't do for myself, putting up with my out-of-it-on-painkillers-good-for-nothingness, (and the mockery) and telling me that forced sleep isn't laziness.
Beks, for bringing me P&P and dark chocolate and visiting with me
"the guys" for the prayers and thoughtful suggestions. "take her chocolate"
everybody else who took time out of their busy day to pray for me and call me. I was blown away. I'm sorry I was loopy, tomorrow is my last day on meds so I'll be more alert Sunday.