Close Call

Maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I feel like I almost lost my daughter yesterday. I really felt deep fear.

I was jumping my jumps, oblivious to what was about to happen. As I crested the last jump I saw my daughter on the landing right underneath me.

It was a really sick feeling. But I've got to write about it. When she saw me she screamed bloody murder (for once it was appropriate). I too screamed, tried to adjust my bike as best I could to not land on her and sort of bounced/jumped over her, using the old tuck and roll. Thankfully she did too.

As I held her in the woods, I checked her all over for some gaping wound. She had a tiny cut on her arm, a bump on her head, and other than that was just covered in a bunch of dirt. We held eachother and cried, while we both said how sorry we were. (I still don't know why she was sorry. Perhaps it was because I had just warned her a few days ago never to sneak up on me while I'm jumping as something like what happened could happen.)

Even as I write a wave of relief is rolling over me. My extremely precious, beautiful daughter was spared harm by God. I have nothing but gratitude.

This touches on something I've been reading about recently. The idea that God doesn't micro-manage. When we think of micro-managers we think of pesky annoying bosses who just won't let us do anything.

But for God, I believe He's in a different category. I believe that it is appropriate to feel anger towards God when bad things happen. I believe it is appropriate to feel gratitude when good things happen. I don't believe that God is responsible for evil, but I do believe He's in control.

Where else are we to take our feelings of anger and gratitude. True much and all evil (in a sense) is our making, but if we can't be angry with God, or more appropriately take our anger to God (I guess this is more what I mean) where are we to take it?

So this morning I am very grateful. God spared my daughter possibly great harm, and in doing so reminded her father just how fragile life can be and how precious.

God did a lot as we clung together in the forest yesterday. More than I can express in words. But another thing I've been thinking about is, while I would never want to harm Teya (other than on long car rides), how my absence, distance or preoccupation could wound her deeper than my bike ever could. It's a lesson that I'm glad God is bringing to light, and yes I believe God does that sort of thing.

But I also believe that we often miss his lessons when we start trying to figure everything out. Or claim that every event has a moral. God's in control, and in these fleeting moments called life, and in the bigger backdrop of the fall, God clings to us with the same sort of love that had a very frightened father clinging to a bruised and scared daughter in the woods (Did I mention she was wearing goggles? My life never seems to be without a pinch of humor). In fact it was his love.

Phew!