On Saturday night I ran. I’ve been waiting to do that for 6 years. On the way home from dinner we lost a tire…literally…check out the picture.
And when Jeremy smoothly maneuvered our noisy, shaking van over to the side of the highway, I ran. I got the boys out, and we headed to the side of the road.
I ran because I was scared. The sounds of cars flying by brought back new memories; ones I never even knew where there.
I ran because the thought of helplessly sitting there was too real to relive.
I ran because finally, after 6 years, I could. I could grab Stephen out of that car and high-tale it somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the fear, and the smells, and the pain. Somewhere far away from the uncontrollable.
The last time we sat on the side of the road that’s all I wanted to do. Grab Stephen and run far away. Sometimes in my mind I still want to do that. I want to run away from these memories and the pain they still bring.
But you know what I realized…Even when I couldn’t run away. Even when I can’t run away. God is still there. He is holding Stephen. He is loving Him. He is whispering to his soul, “It’s okay, child. You are safe with me.”
Psalms 27:5-“For he will conceal me there when troubles come; he will hide me in his sanctuary. He will place me out of reach on a high rock.”