Last Saturday night, my next-door-neighbor called and asked if we had company. Company that might have parked in her big circular driveway.
This made me laugh.
"It's okay," she assured, "we just want to know why there's a car we don't recognize in our driveway."
I hurried downstairs to ask if anyone in our household had a visitor who might have mistaken the neighbor's driveway for ours. No guests were to be found. The night was cold, but I was curious enough to don a blanket-coat, slip on shoes, and investigate.
Sure enough, a small red car was parked in the neighbor's driveway, but I traced its path and recognized it hadn't been parked by human hands. It had drifted by itself down the hill and wedged itself at an angle, stopped only by the thick hedge that grows between our properties. I also recognized, we'd been spared another disaster. Had it started from another position at the top of the hill, had it veered slightly to its left, it would have rolled into our house, into our son-in-law's car, or it could have taken down the iron fence and landed on the raspberry patch below.
A phone call to the neighbors at the top of the hill revealed the car belonged to their guest. He was indeed surprised because he said, "When I parked, I put on the emergency break." When my next door neighbor revealed this to me, I could see why no damage had been done. Instead of swiftly rolling down the hill, the emergency brake kept it at a slow pace, and the hedge was enough to slow it to a standstill.
I'm sure the phone call made my top-of-the-hill neighbor relive the nightmare of her life. Twenty years earlier, she had strapped her two toddlers into her car in the garage, then ran back to grab the forgotten keys. While running back through the house, she looked out the window at her car, her children, rolling down the hill.
So long ago, that car did strike my home. It had wedged itself perfectly up against the house. Brick met steel and stopped the car. Had it been a little to the right, it could have been a different story.
We had those few chipped bricks replaced, but I almost wished we hadn't.
They would have served a reminder of a different kind of emergency brake.
As my friend chased her babies down the hill, knowing she didn't have the power to physically stop the car, not knowing how hard the impact would be, no knowing if the car would continue down the hill, there was only one thing she could do~~pray mightily. The kind of intense, humble prayer when you're all alone, when you're completely dependent on God.
Her prayer was answered.
When she swung open the door, the little ones were wide-eyed and afraid, but they were safe.
I imagine, whether from hearing her story, or from my own imagined grief, that she fell on her knees, grabbed those babies, and with tears and gratitude heretofore experienced, she thanked Heavenly Father for the little miracle that day.
Her emergency break had worked.
This made me laugh.
"It's okay," she assured, "we just want to know why there's a car we don't recognize in our driveway."
I hurried downstairs to ask if anyone in our household had a visitor who might have mistaken the neighbor's driveway for ours. No guests were to be found. The night was cold, but I was curious enough to don a blanket-coat, slip on shoes, and investigate.
Sure enough, a small red car was parked in the neighbor's driveway, but I traced its path and recognized it hadn't been parked by human hands. It had drifted by itself down the hill and wedged itself at an angle, stopped only by the thick hedge that grows between our properties. I also recognized, we'd been spared another disaster. Had it started from another position at the top of the hill, had it veered slightly to its left, it would have rolled into our house, into our son-in-law's car, or it could have taken down the iron fence and landed on the raspberry patch below.
A phone call to the neighbors at the top of the hill revealed the car belonged to their guest. He was indeed surprised because he said, "When I parked, I put on the emergency break." When my next door neighbor revealed this to me, I could see why no damage had been done. Instead of swiftly rolling down the hill, the emergency brake kept it at a slow pace, and the hedge was enough to slow it to a standstill.
I'm sure the phone call made my top-of-the-hill neighbor relive the nightmare of her life. Twenty years earlier, she had strapped her two toddlers into her car in the garage, then ran back to grab the forgotten keys. While running back through the house, she looked out the window at her car, her children, rolling down the hill.
So long ago, that car did strike my home. It had wedged itself perfectly up against the house. Brick met steel and stopped the car. Had it been a little to the right, it could have been a different story.
We had those few chipped bricks replaced, but I almost wished we hadn't.
They would have served a reminder of a different kind of emergency brake.
As my friend chased her babies down the hill, knowing she didn't have the power to physically stop the car, not knowing how hard the impact would be, no knowing if the car would continue down the hill, there was only one thing she could do~~pray mightily. The kind of intense, humble prayer when you're all alone, when you're completely dependent on God.
Her prayer was answered.
When she swung open the door, the little ones were wide-eyed and afraid, but they were safe.
I imagine, whether from hearing her story, or from my own imagined grief, that she fell on her knees, grabbed those babies, and with tears and gratitude heretofore experienced, she thanked Heavenly Father for the little miracle that day.
Her emergency break had worked.
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