Yesterday, I got rear ended in my car for the second time in two weeks. This time, I was on the highway with my daughter and dog. We are not injured, but now the car is no longer drivable. The police came, a tow truck came, and my dad and stepmom came to give us their car to use for the week. It all turned out and life will go on. A question keeps coming into my brain: how can this same accident happen twice in two weeks? I want to figure out the meaning, the reason, the lesson, the opportunity. It would all be a little easier if the accidents were my fault. Then, I could come up with an answer. But, this is one question (among many) to which I really just don’t know the answer. I just don’t know. I have a feeling, I will carry this “I don’t know” into my week whether I intend to or not. So, I’ll intend to. Here’s what I’m doing this week.
I’m releasing my “I don’t knows” to God. There are so many things I don’t know, though I act like and think like I know more than I do most of the time. I don’t knows make me nervous, though. What’s ahead? I don’t know. What’s next? I don’t know. Who will be there? I don’t know. What will happen? I don’t know. This week, I’m going to try a little experiment: when I don’t know something, I’ll just acknowledge it and release it to God, who does know. I wonder if this might create some space in my heart and mind.
I’m thanking God for his protection. The thing about car accidents and illnesses that happen to us is that we don’t know they are coming, what the impact will be, or how things will turn out. This time, all is well and I’m thankful God protected me and my daughter.
I’m resting in God’s words in Isaiah 55:9-10: “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
What does your week look like?