Too close to home, again

We were detoured on the way to Kidzone (kids’ church) Wednesday evening. In fact, we had to go several miles out of the way to get to the church the back way. Our church is on a country road off of another country road that is also a pretty major thoroughfare (Yes, a country road can also be a major thoroughfare, LOL). The road was barricaded before the bridge, and we found out later that from the other direction, it was barricaded at the state highway. We turned around and made the circuitous way through back roads around the blockage, and we prayed together in the car for whatever the situation was that had the road closed, because we figured it couldn’t be a good reason to block the whole road. As details began to unfold, we found out that it was a car accident, and a double fatality, at that. A man from my parents’ church was killed, as well as the other driver, an elderly man. Between that too-close-to-home wreck and the cell phone-gabbing teeny-bopper who nearly side-swiped me later in the evening, I mused aloud that I didn’t even want to leave the house today. I wanted to just let all the kids pile in bed with me and spend a Snuggle Day watching movies and staying in our pjs. A friend encouraged me to take a “mental health day,” and as much as it sounds appealing, I didn’t think I should skip a day of work (or the kids a day of school) just because I was waxing nostalgic and feeling overly protective. Besides, after about an hour of Snuggle Day this morning, I’m sure the boys would’ve been stir-crazy and start driving me bonkers. :p It does put a sobering perspective on the day-to-day routine, though. We are not promised tomorrow. I wish I’d thought to pick up the phone again, just to tell my brother that I loved him, but I enjoy the memory that our last conversation was a funny one (at my expense, but funny, nonetheless). If I were to die unexpectedly, I wouldn’t want anyone in my life to ever question how much I cared about them. I would hope that I’ve said enough “I love you”s to help them have happy memories, too. I explained to the boys that one of the people who died was a helper-pastor at his church, so at bedtime prayers, No. 5 asked God “to help the pastor who volunteered to have a fun time in heaven.” Indeed. I look forward to what I call {Revelation 21:3-4 Day} because “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.” Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

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