Friday, May 1, 2015
One, Big, Unexpected Thump
After surviving the wilds of Mississippi, we were glad to finally arrive in southern Arkansas. As always, it had been too long since we had spent any time with my dad's side of the family. My Uncle C and Aunt B welcomed us into their home with open arms and even kicked their own fifth wheel out into the weather to let us park under their big carport. (RVport?)
We colored eggs with the cousins and had a good time talking and enjoying the comforts of a real, honest-to-goodness house. We still slept in the trailer, as we always do, but were able to do school work at the big dining room table, cook in a real oven, and take actual baths. All the comforts of home, with none of the inconvenience of home ownership. I love visiting family.
On Easter Sunday we went to the sunrise service with my aunt and uncle, then the morning service as well. It was rainy, so there was no Easter egg hunt for the kids as planned. They instead chose prizes in children's church. This resulted in my children being the proud owners of an unwieldy sidewalk chalk toy, and an even more unwieldy set of blow-up boxing gloves the size of small electric cars. Just the kind of toys that fit best in an RV. My children were unrepentant when I pointed this out to them.
After service, we had a wreck.
It was just that sudden. We had been enjoying a peaceful weekend, making plans for our next day of travel and congratulating ourselves on having survived the tire blow-out of the previous week, when we made a left-hand turn in front of an oncoming pick-up truck. The rain-slick roads didn't help our traction as we tried to accelerate, and the truck hit directly into the front passenger door, bounced past the back passenger door, and hit the bed.
Needless to say we were all fairly shaken up. However, God was there for every step of the way. There was a succession of small miracles (are there such things?). I wasn't sitting by the door that received the most damage, because I always sit in the middle next to Aaron. (Roll eyes here, if you aren't a romantic.) The truck had bounced past Zaya's door, so he was completely unharmed as well as Mim, Aaron and the other driver.
There were tears, but they were all from adrenaline and relief once we had a chance to talk to each other. The car driving right behind us belonged to a couple from my aunt and uncle's church. They weren't just any couple, either. He was/is the fire chief for that town, and she was the kids' Sunday school teacher from that morning's class. He was able to call in the wreck immediately to the authorities and clear the road, while she was the first to give the little ones hugs and calm them.
My uncle, who is an EMT, just happened to be on his way home for lunch as well, so he was on the scene within seconds of the crash. We didn't need the ambulance, but there it was, providing comfort by its very presence. The kids and I rode back to C and B's house with the fire chief, while Aaron drove poor, wounded Vimes. Yes, it was still drive-able , but only just. (Vimes is the name of our truck. I'll explain later.)
If that's not a story about love and provision, what is?