Witnesses

I was rattled at the start and finish of my day yesterday.

A.M.

In the morning I headed to my brother's to babysit my cute niece. I was leaving the highway to merge onto the freeway. There were two lanes on that onramp, and I was in the left one. I noticed a tan car pulled over on the side of the freeway, right before the upside-down Y of the merge. A person stood by the vehicle. To my right a red truck zipped past. And I mean zipped. I remember thinking that was odd, because the cars in my lane were already going at a quick pace.  I'm glad I registered the red truck, for without any warning at all, he not only crossed right in front of me, he stopped in my lane. Stopped! I was going 60-65 miles an hour.

I braked hard. Somehow everything cleared behind and to the side of me, and I was able to get in the right lane, past the red truck, and onto the freeway safely. I don't know exactly what happened. I burst into tears. I knew it had been a near miss. Very, very near. I had been protected. I choked out a prayer of gratitude.

My only guess is that maybe the red truck (I'll call the driver Crazy) was on its way to help the tan car but misjudged the junction. Perhaps -- finally realizing that if he took the onramp all the way, he would be ahead of Tan Car and with merge traffic in between them -- Crazy decided to make his own road and cut back. Weird that I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I was shook up, but feelings of calm overcame me. I knew I had been watched. I knew it.

Later, back at home after a fun day with my niece, I told Jeff I had had a near miss. "What do you mean, near miss?" he asked. Valid question. Most days my relatable "near misses" might range from sneaking into the bank right before closing, to almost plunking down $5 for a chair at a garage sale. My life is kind of bland. I told him about the red truck. "Oh, so you got cut off," he said. "Hmm." And then we had dinner.

P.M.

I issued a consequence to one of my children for inappropriate behavior. An argument ensued. The child left the house in a fury, swearing to sleep in a ditch if needs be. It was dark and late. Two of the younger children saw the action unfold and were fearful the sibling would not come back. I got into the car and asked Heavenly Father to please lead me to this child. I drove all around the neighborhood and by schools and parks. I was resigned to coming home alone when -- voila. I pulled alongside the walking child; the child marched right past me. I stopped alongside again and was denied. My heart was breaking when I pulled into the garage.

Later the child did come back, but so did the fury. I tried to soften things by explaining my prayer, and how I knew Heavenly Father had answered it. The child mocked me. That probably hurt most of all.

Why didn't the child believe me, I asked my husband. Heavenly Father helped me. I knew it. I wanted my child to know it. Why wasn't that meaningful to the child? "That witness was for you," Jeff said.



I was thinking about personal witnesses at church today, and marveling how all the messages in talks were just what I needed to hear.

After church Br. C stopped me in the hall. "Hey, did you see all the Scouts waving at you yesterday?" I hadn't. He joked that I must have tunnel vision, for he'd been right beside me on the highway. Br. C was taking a load of Scouts rappelling (incidentally, joining my husband at the rock face Jeff had left earlier in the morning to prepare). Apparently, I was a couple of cars ahead of the Scouts at the onramp.

Our conversation turned somber. Br. C saw everything: The tan car, vehicles that swerved, Crazy practically parked on the onramp. Jeff joined us in the hall by now. It really affected me to hear someone else reaffirm how blessed I was there hadn't been an accident. I could have gone under that truck. "It's good there would have been a witness," Jeff said.

No, it's good on so many more levels. I have witness of that.