Me and the kids.
Heading out to homeschool-coop.
As I was approaching an onramp and passing through the busy intersection, a truck with an incredibly long, insanely low steel trailer stopped suddenly, on the onramp, to accomodate a streetsweeper that was stopped in the middle of the aforementioned onramp. (Still not sure why.)
None of this was visible from where I was in the intersection. At all. (The onramp is hidden by cement walls and is around a curve.)
Until it was too late.
And, in spite of (carefully) slamming on my brakes, I couldn't stop in time. I couldn't swerve either (refer back to aforementioned cement walls.)
Is there any sound worse than metal-on-metal?
Needless to say, our big van is currently at the body shop for repairs. Boo.
Also needless to say, the guy's steel trailer didn't have a scratch on it. Yay.
And some slight emotional trauma.
Because after pulling forward and onto the shoulder, I called the police to make an accident report, figuring you're supposed to do that. But I kinda came to regret that decision because it took them over TWO HOURS to get an officer there. Yep, two-plus hours. So for 120 minutes, my seven kids and I hung out next to a stinky fence by the highway (a safe distance from traffic of course).
It was sunny, and hot, and I just could not BELIEVE how long it was taking.
So I took pictures.
When I (finally) got to the (correct) body shop (after AAA took us to the WRONG one) and saw a blessed crucifix on the wall, and the employees and insurance rep were so over-the-top kind to me, I about bawled.
And when the man from the body shop dropped me off at my house where Kevin and the kids were waiting outside to greet me and wave me in, I DID bawl.
People, I HATE stuff like this. It's humiliating (not sure why, but it is), expensive, and I have to go in person, downtown, to traffic court to pay my ticket. Plus, I felt downright yucky the rest of the day (and weekend for that matter). It's just awful.
The really ironic thing was, that morning at our group we were supposed to put together bags to hand out to the homeless--filled with water, soap, and other useful items.
Yet it was us who wound up stranded and vulnerable on the side of the road. And, two separate strangers fully stopped to hand us a bunch of bottles of cold water. Angels from Heaven, I tell you. Talk about an object lesson. By the time Kevin showed up and got all the carseats switched over to our 8-seater minivan, my kids were pretty much covered in dirt, my shoes were ruined, Mekdes was sobbing, and Mary and Tigist and Kaitlyn had had.e.nough. We all had, really.
So, that was our Friday. I always used to wonder what would happen if my car broke down or we got stranded somewhere, me and my seven small kids. "What would we do?", I'd muse.
Well, now I know.
Praising God that even though a slow-moving fender-bender is a big deal when you have seven kids in tow, life goes on and we are well. Even if we now have to caravan places for awhile.
A minor accident, yes, but it still shook me up enough to make me so extra grateful for the sweet little souls who are my children. And for a husband who leaves work and shows up by the side of the road to save the day, who gives me hugs and tells me not to worry about it, because "it's just money".
Sometimes life is hard, but God is always good, and I am blessed.