I’ve watched those mystery-type, police shows my entire life. I was born and raised on Perry Mason. Murder, She Wrote? I solved them before she did. I considered being a detective at one point in my life. The main hindrance was that I’m not fond of blood or being shot at. I admit I haven’t actually been shot at, yet, but it isn’t on my bucket list.

Those shows are so silly sometimes. The criminal is obvious. The clues are glowing. The alibies are Swiss cheese. Snort. Scoff. Seriously! Why do I even watch them? I think it has been the feeling they give me of being smart. Until two weeks ago.

It began as every other Wednesday morning began. Wresting a 4 year old, throwing together lunches, looking for my keys, etc, etc. It was actually a pretty calm day. Ben and I were driving to school after dropping baby G off at preschool. We were sitting at a red light, quietly contemplating our individual plot lines of life when things suddenly went into slow motion.

I would be a horrible eye witness. I mean it. I was sitting in the first slot at a red light, in the turning lane. I had the best view of anyone around the accident. The cars swerved around my car. All I remember is a white (?) van slowly driving into the side of a car, right in front of me. The rest is a blur. When things stopped moving, I was literally surrounded by crashed cars. People were jumping out to help, pulling people from cars and car seats. There was rubble all over the road. No one was moving. I was blocking traffic.

I reached over and grabbed Ben’s arm. “What just happened?” I asked him.

“I could try to tell you…” he slowly said back to me.

We both sat there, stunned. I finally grabbed my phone and dialed 911. I explained where I was and that there had been an accident right in front of me. We were not even 1/4 mile from the fire department. I asked them what I should do. “I’m blocking traffic and even though I saw the whole thing, I can’t tell you what happened.”

They told me to go ahead and go. I passed the word along to the people bustling around outside my window.  I literally drove through the rubble to lead the cars behind me through the intersection.

Now I understand those shows. When those people are telling the outlandish stories of what they saw, it really is what they think. They probably don’t have any idea and just make stuff up! I spent the rest of the day trying to replay what I had seen. I still can’t tell you what happened!

Here’s what I CAN tell you. My son and I were protected. It was as if a huge bubble force field had been placed around and over my car. Things flew in every direction but we were safe. I may not remember what I physically saw that day, but I saw the hand of the Lord.

Ben and I said a prayer as we continued to school. We said how grateful we were that we were protected. How grateful we were that no one seemed to be hurt. How grateful we were that Baby G wasn’t in the car. How grateful we were to see so many people helping each other in a frantic situation.

We called 911. It doesn’t seem like we did much at all, but it’s what we could do. And then, we moved traffic.

Every day is a gift. Be grateful. Cause I said so.

Photo credit: http://www.Nilodudes.com