On our way home from our weekend getaway to Round Top Sunday (recap coming soon), we witnessed a horrible car wreck that left me hyperventilating with my head between my knees.
It had been raining off and on for hours, and the road was slick, the highway was curving, and we were on a bridge. Everybody was going 65+ miles an hour when a truck, just two cars in front of us, lost control, first swerving to the left, then quickly veering to the right and going straight into the guard rail, flipping on its side as it traveled up the guard rail, then crashing back down, landing upright, with the nose of the truck sticking out into the 2-lane highway at 90 degrees.
Smoke billowed out of the hood of the truck.
The rest of us slammed on our brakes and swerved to miss the wreckage, narrowly missing it as we came to a stop on the shoulder about 100 feet ahead. People started jumping out of their cars and running toward the truck.
Nobody got out of the truck.
It just sat there, still and smoking. We called 911 and gave them our location, and still… nobody got out of the truck.
“It’s really bad,” Mr. Right told the 911 operator. “Really bad.”
And that’s when I lost it. I started gasping for breath, shaking, crying hysterically. I put my head between my knees and just sobbed. We had just watched someone die. Oh my goodness. Mr. Right told me that he needed to go see if he could help, leaving us on the shoulder of the highway. I prayed and sobbed for the driver, for Mr. Right and the other good Samaritans who were surely seeing something that would forever change their lives, for Wrenn and I as we sat in the car, with cars still driving by, that nobody would get hit.
I just prayed and sobbed.
After a few minutes, Mr. Right walked back to the car with good news. The driver had walked away. We hadn’t seen him get out of his truck, but he was fine. No major injuries. And just like that, we got back in our car and kept driving. And you know what? I kept crying.
I wish I was one of those people who is strong during a crisis. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I’m not. Yesterday was not my day to be brave.
Thank you Jesus for protecting that driver, the others around us, and for protecting my little family. Life can change in just one moment, can’t it?