A Year Later

Today marks the one year anniversary of a life event that would totally reshape my life and my husband’s life.  It isn’t an anniversary that you look forward to with baited breath.  You don’t really plan a celebration in its honor.  If anything this is the event that turns your tummy upside down and you may even try to avoid.

September 6, 2014 was a pretty, late summer day.  We had spent the day with the kids and had a night away planned.  Our sitter was coming over with her little sister.  The hubs and I were off to Greensboro for dinner.  No bells, no whistles, nothing out of the ordinary.

We had a great time while we were out.  Mind you we just had dinner and did some window shopping.  While we were on our way home I received a text from our sitter that there was a really bad storm and our daughter was freaking out.  I told her we were on our way home.

When we got home I paid the sitter and thanked her.  I checked on our kids, the two year old fast asleep in his crib and our daughter happy but drowsy from lots of play time with her friend R.

I tried to keep my cool as I quickly packed their bags.

See, when I was walking in our home I stopped and noticed the shadow off the porch did not look like it normally did as it floated into our yard. Instead of a spray of light and dark from the porch…it was just predominantly dark.  I peeked over and my husband just said, “Don’t look.  Go pack.”

Adrenaline pumping and the feelings of euphoria were quickly coming in to play.  This couldn’t be real but this was very real.  I have to move, just keep moving, be positive, and don’t scare the kids.

I stepped outside to call my mom and let her know we needed her help.  Part of me knew when she picked up the phone I would crumble.  Isn’t that what we, kid with good mamas, do?  We’re all tough and ten feet tall and bullet proof but when you hear your mom’s voice it is over.  You just let it go and melt.

I couldn’t speak.  She came over and got the kids.

We would spend the next 17 weeks living with her and her husband in the bedroom of my teenage years.

September 6^th will forever be the date that I learned that God does hear our prayers.  It would be the date in my life where I would realize that when we put our focus and heart and soul on others He will respond.

Every night prior to that event I said a very simple prayer over my kids.  This is it….

“Dear God, please keep my children healthy and safe all their days. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

It isn’t poetic or deep.  It is a simple prayer I have prayed for a long time over my children.  It is every mama’s basic hope for her children.  It is the basis for every day - keep them healthy (no broken bones, illness whether it be strep or something even more drastic) keep them safe (in school, in the car, on their devices, when they’re with friends, at youth group, or on the court/mat/field). 

On 9.6.2014 my prayers were answered.

There were four kids in my house that night.

While they played and laughed and ate and vegged out in front of a television the foundation/basement walls of that house were rushed by an immense amount of water and collapsed sending the house into a teetering state of disruption.  There were wires, water, mud, and muck and the weight of a house sitting on a wall and a corner.

If you are a builder or engineer you would have seen our house and said (like the engineer who came out) – “You should be thanking your lucky stars your kids are alive.”

Logically, scientifically, and structurally the house should have fell on down and or a fire should have started between the frayed and cut wires and the water.

Neither happened.

You may call it luck or a good day.  I call it grace.

Grace covered so much last fall.

I felt grace in day three when the insurance company said they wouldn’t cover this damage.

When I gave up the fear and stood alone behind my house staring at the trees, I felt grace.  I learned a long time ago to give up whatever is worrying you to God.  Verbally tell Him to take it and make with it what He will. I did that and he calmed me.

When the timeline for moving the house (yes moving it) and repairing it was off kilter I felt grace.

It held my tongue and my fist.  It kept me busy with other items that needed my attention. 

I felt grace in the hands and feet of all the friends who helped at the house, with the kids, by raising money to help us, who prayed for us with no stopping, who made meals and loved on us when we felt like we were at the end of our ropes.

I felt grace in the ability to keep some things as stable as possible for the kids with Saturday breakfasts at IHOP, pumpkin patches, trick or treating, birthday dinners, our annual Christmas tree trip on Thanksgiving, and so much more.

Grace carried us so that our focus wasn’t really worrying but making it through.

On December 20, 2014 we moved back into our home.  We had a makeshift fake tree last year for Christmas and a sense of peace even though things had been so awkward for months.  We had a new view on what really matters in this life – it isn’t anything you can buy.  No car, house, dress, purse, book, vacation can ever be something of true importance.  It is the people and memories you make with those people.  It is the ability to be an item of grace in someone else’s life when the walls are crashing down.

We could have lost a lot more on that night a year ago but we were spared. Though it was the hardest personal event of my life to deal with (other than the unexpected loss of my grandmother in 2005) it was an event that was necessary to teach me how much my God cherishes us and how intricate we are to each other’s lives, every single day, to be grace in action.

Today.