Her voice was stiff with unshed tears. “Mommy? Somebody hit me. I was just sitting at the light and this big truck knocked me into the SUV in front of me. I’m OK. He just plowed into me. The police are here. He never even looked. I think my car is totaled. Can you come and get me?” The last word sheared up on the ragged fringe of her courage.
Anne had won an appointment to a state legislator’s staff as a high school junior. And she had won a grant for the car that would take her to the capitol past our most dangerous neighborhoods every week. Together, they had been her God-given respite from the money worries that threaten to swamp our children’s hopes; the reward of long, diligent work. And now both internship and car were the wreckage of another man’s neglect.
“Oh, God! Let her know with complete certainty that You have meant this for her benefit. Let her know that You are good, even in this,” I breathed as I navigated the patchy ice of downtown side streets to her rescue. I was furious; worried that she would feel mocked by God. I could just hear Him laughing.
This weekend, I dropped Anne off at one of the nation’s most well-respected music camps for a six-week one-on-one music composition intensive with a famous American composer, and a new computer, and a new (if somewhat humbler) car. The long-delayed insurance settlement had principally financed them all. Somehow, we had managed to get Anne safely to her internship every week without her car.
Her assessment of the whole episode? “Well, God certainly has a sense of humor!” And we are all laughing now.