I watched the arm come out of the window of the car in front of me and normally someone would say, “it was all a blur after that”, but not for me.

Time actually changed. The world slowed and I remember every move, every breath, every feeling as I watched what appeared to be a metal ball hurled out the window straight at me.

I didn’t want to duck as somehow I knew the importance of holding steady and keeping my focus but somehow, no sooner had that thought come, another told me to bend slightly to the right with my upper body.

Not a Scratch

The impact was ear shattering.

The glass was a furious storm of destruction. Later I’d find that the glass, which we occasionally still find even after a complete detailing, had gone through my coat and sweater. I literally had to pick it off of my skin. How?! How is that even possible?

Yet I had not a scratch.

I crossed a lane of traffic on the freeway, grateful that there was a shoulder and pulled to a stop.

The car rocked as if we were in a wind tunnel as car after car rocketed past us, totally unaware of what we’d just survived.

And that’s when the windshield began to sag in towards the dash.

The sounds of glass fracturing and shattering as new cracks chased each other across the windshield like a playground of children finally being released from the confounds of a classroom to the freedom of recess.

A quiet voice from the backseat, “Mom, what happened? I’m scared!”

Not the First Time

That wasn’t the first time my life has been spared.

In fact, with 3 children, countless other stories and a future ahead of me, this is one of many stories I could and will tell.

And I guess that’s why I waited to share it.

Blessed by a Stranger

Finally reaching one of two police stations, I told them what had happened and that I worried about driving as the constant splintering and groaning of the glass hinted that it would give way at any moment.

But the police insisted I come to the next exit.

Slowly I pulled out, grateful to only be 2 exits from home. I took the first and eased the car into a gas station where immediately a man walked over to check on us.

The kindness of his immediate attention to a stranger he saw pull in was heaven sent. Truly. I see that and am grateful.

I Was Still

The police arrived with the only thing they could do, say sorry.

No license plate and no witnesses, we were on our own.

But in the center of shards of glass and chaos, I was still.

So was Grayson.

Unshaken through a quaking.

A Story of Preservation

I know, it would make a better story if we had hunted the punk down that could have killed us by throwing that thing but it’s what hit me the next day that bothered me.

Why is my life a story of preservation? Why do these near fatal disasters keep coming?

The shovel.
The hyperemesis gravidarum.
The New York City hotel elevator.
The Chicago basement (story unshared) and countless others.

It bothered me for a good week as I pondered this unsettling feeling of vulnerability, like I’m constantly trying to be destroyed.

My Faith Has Mattered Most

I’m nothing wonderful or even good. I’m mistakes and weaknesses.


So many crazy experiences, but I am always aware of the peace and preservation.

I can’t explain it.

You have to feel it to know it.

But I can be totally honest with you, completely transparent.

It’s not me.

It’s who I believe in.

And I mean that, my faith in Christ has mattered more than the craziness.