Turning Life's Corners

Reading Through the Bible in 2010 ( Gen.19-21)

"Then he (Lot) made them a feast, and baked unleavened bread, and they ate." Gen.19:3

"Did Lot even begin to suspect it would be his last dinner in Sodom? So simply, so without observation, do we turn the corner of the road of life but as yet we do not know that we have turned the corner." Amy Carmichael

When I was six years old, my father was in a terrible auto accident. I can vividly remember being in my parents' bedroom, playing on the floor with my 18 month old brother, when the phone rang. My mother answered it and as I looked at her, I watched the blood drain out of her face. I knew that something awful had happened.

When she hung up the phone I questioned, "Mom, what is it?"

She took a deep breath and said carefully, "Your father's car has been hit by a milk truck in the snowstorm. He probably has a broken leg or something."

That night my grandmother tucked us into bed and told us not to worry. I wasn't that concerned because who worries about a broken leg when your grandmother is giving you love and a cookie? But as I munched away and cuddled up in my grandmother's arms, I didn't know that our lives had turned a corner after that phone call. I didn't have a clue. Just like Lot!

It was much more than a broken leg. My father's life hung fragilely, as if it were dangling from a string, for the next month. After it was determined that he would live, he spent five more months in St. Agnes Hospital in Fond du lac. My mother took the train to be with him every morning and she came back on the train to be with us late every evening. My two grandmothers came and took care of Robert and me. Two nights before the accident - we all came to refer to it as "the accident," my father had told me one of his fine stories. Now there were no stories, no father and, most of the time, no mother. Just us and two grandmothers who had very different views on child raising.

But there was joy even in that journey. We got to know our grandparents really well. One day Dad was improved enough that WE could take the train and visit him in the hospital. Staying up late and waiting to see my mom became the norm.

When Dad came home, we were a family again. I can clearly recall sitting on the couch and looking out the window. It was summer now and my father had put a harness around my two year old brother to take him for a walk. He looked like the Tin Woodman jerking slowly along the sidewalk as his child pulled him along. I was incredulous! Is that my Dad? Will he ever look normal again?

He did. It took time-years-but he recovered. He had pins in his leg and a jagged scar on his face. But he pushed through the pain and went on to be a big influence in his grandchildren's lives - living to the age of 84.

Turning that corner taught me a lot about healing and patience and the value of an intact family - something we take for granted until it's not there anymore. It helped me understand what people go through when their families are under huge strains. It was a big lesson on life's journey.

We turn corners unexpectedly. We don't ask to. Usually we don't want to. But they are often just a phone call away and our lives are forever changed. Corners are, and will always be, a part of "The Joyful Journey."