Little boys and their homemade toys are the stuff of disaster. Who knew agreeing to let him play with the worn-down screw found in the corner of the garage would be so detrimental? Tying it to a piece of yarn seemed harmless.
He sat in the backseat, buckled in tight, right next to Baby Sister. Momentum was the name of the game. Step 1: tie one end of yarn to an enthusiastic finger. Step 2: give that finger one swift rotation with as much force as a seven-year-old can muster. Step 3: see how fast and hard that piece of metal will swing around before spinning it in the opposite direction.
All was fun and games until the screw went rogue and slipped from the yarn. A mini thwack on the window was followed by a whispered, “whoops”, that was followed by a most unfamiliar sound. A thousand little crackles splintered their way up the window in a wave of instant destruction.
From the driver’s seat, “What just happened? What was that?”
“Mommy! My window! It’s cracking!”
Forcing my voice to sound calm and steady, “It’s okay. Let’s just get home. Don’t touch it.” I willed the vehicle to move smoothly as I drove down the highway.
The window was a floating puzzle. Just like the manufacturer intended, all the tiny pieces stayed in place. Until they didn’t.
The first piece broke free from the center. “Mom! It’s going to break!”
Then a second piece. “Honey, lean as far away from the window as you can.”
When the third shard fell inside the van, my children lost their little minds. That’s when the entire sheet of broken glass collapsed. The tiny razors fell inside the door with an overwhelming crash. Chaos ensued.
Big brother’s panic was as contagious as a solid case of Pink Eye. My sweet duo proceeded to scream their heads off in a most dramatic fashion. Their eyes were wild with fear. The back of our family vehicle was full of glass, pleas for help, and uncontrolled tears.
“Listen to my voice. Stop screaming so you can hear me. I know you’re scared. Stop looking at the window. Stop looking at the glass. Follow my instructions.”
I continued to give them reassuring words of truth as we gently pulled into a safe parking lot. “I need you to stop crying so you can hear me. Are you listening? Check to see if you are bleeding. Do not get unbuckled yet. Do not move.”
They were safe. They were completely unharmed. No scratches, no scrapes, no blood.
As I turned the engine off, I heard God whisper. “They are soo you.”
How many times has He told me to stop crying long enough to listen to His voice?
How many times has he reassured me that all is well, even when my circumstances tell me otherwise?
How many times has He tried to convince me to follow His direction in spite of my fear?
He doesn’t want me to panic, assume the worst, and live in fear. He wants me to trust Him – even when I am riding in a seat of chaos.
Trust in him at all times; you people, pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.
Blessings to you and yours,
Angelene with www.unqualifiedmom.com