My greatest fear…is that one of my children will die from a freak accident. There. I said it. I don’t fear the boogey man snatching one of them in the middle of the night…it’s the freak accident that freaks me out! Like, say, one of them being run over by a backing up car.
And that is why, every morning, when I need to back the mini van out of the garage I am sure to tell everyone to stay in the house (or on the porch) so I know exactly where they are.
Except this morning.
This morning I didn’t say it. And this morning I almost backed over my baby!
I was in the garage packing the van. She should have been inside putting on her jacket. We have a one-car garage that is so tight I can’t even open my van door all the way. I can only open it about a quarter of the way and then squeeze into the front seat. And so that is why after I squeezed in to the front seat I didn’t see her in the garage. I backed out of the garage and there she was…standing against the wall with her jacket in her hand.
There was my baby just standing there. How did I not see her? She stands just as tall as the side mirror. How did the side mirror not knock her down? How did I (we) advert a tragedy today?
I know she (I) was protected today. Watched out for. Guarded.
This could have been a really bad Monday. But it wasn’t. After I stressed to my baby, very very loudly, the importance of not doing that sort of thing…ever again, I held her tight. Tighter than I have ever held her. Tears in my eyes. Please don’t do that again.
My commute was shaky and tearful but thankful. I prayed. I cried. I thanked God for looking after my baby. For being there when I didn’t even know I needed Him.