Have you ever had a time in your life when everything revolves around one or two things? That’s where I am now.
If you read last week’s column, you know my mom was in a traumatic car accident. She was on her way to a pie bake at Fallowfield. If you’ve prayed for Mom, thank you and God bless you.
My daughter dislocated her knee and strained a ligament three days before Mom’s accident. Everything in my life now revolves around hospital visits, physical therapy, and updating praying friends. Not to mention school, church, caring for my family and trying to take care of myself.
I finally collapsed under the weight of it last weekend. It looked like this: Tears, silent prayers, and ice cream. Be honest. Ice cream helps.
I heard a song on K-LOVE early last Wednesday morning that spoke to my situation. It’s called “God’s Not Done with You” by Tauren Wells. It’s a powerful song about how God is still at work even in the worst situations. I can’t quote the lyrics – that’s called copyright infringement.
I know my Bible. I read it every day. But it’s been really tough finding a scripture that suits my mom’s situation. Psalm 46 comes close: “God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, Even though the earth be removed, And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea….Be still, and know that I am God….” (vv. 1-2, 10 NKJV)
And what can I do besides pray for healing and pain relief? Ask others to pray. Brush her hair. Hold her hand. Sing to her. We sang “Because He Lives,” “God Will Make A Way,” and “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” while Mom was at her absolute worst last week.
Song writers know how to express emotions better than just about anyone. I thank God for Bill and Gloria Gaither, Don Moen, and Thomas Dorsey for penning these comforting songs.
Awful things happen in this world. I’m choosing not to focus on the “why” of Mom’s accident. There’s no point in that. She was nearly killed while driving to church to bake pies for a massive mission project. It’s not like she died of lung cancer after smoking four packs a day for thirty years. There’s no logic. No reason. No explanation. It just happened.
This is where prayer comes in. If I were a betting woman, which I’m not, I’d wager upwards of 500 people have lifted my mom to the Lord every day since her accident. Almost everyone I know seems to be praying for her.
One of the perks of living in the Atlantic community is that it’s a community. It’s not an address. It’s not a ZIP code. It’s a place where people love each other and help each other and pray for each other and genuinely care. When they hear about a neighbor’s accident, they look for ways to help. This community is a place where a man hauls his zero turn to my dad’s house and mows after work, well into the night. It’s where a friend from church brings 20 individually portioned meals to my dad, knowing he won’t be cooking for a while. It’s a gift card to the Gulf Station, knowing I’ll be driving to Youngstown to see my mom. It’s knock on the door at 8:30 and a friend bearing a lasagna she made after work. It’s her daughter flying back to my daughter’s bedroom to hug and console her.
I know God is in control. He’s not done. He will make a way.
Before I forget, Fallowfield United Methodist Church made around 1,800 pies and grossed roughly $36,000 during Crawford County Fair week. If you supported our pie project in any way, thank you.
All God’s blessings to you this week.