I knew I was loved when…I was hit by a car on my bike.
How could that be? It may seem ludicrous but after I explain it might make sense. We had moved to the desert and it was the first time in my mommy career of twelve years that I had some freedom to explore personal goals because Jack was old enough to go to preschool. I was on top of the world in those days, blossoming, learning, exploring and feeling delirious with happiness. What I didn’t see was how far down my own path of selfish pleasures I was going and it was taking me away from God and my family. I had little prickles of warnings in my heart that I pushed aside and thought that surely God doesn’t want me to give up this project that is going so well and making me so happy. I was writing a novel.
He did, and he had to get my attention the hard way. One morning I was in a rage with our Pomeranian, and just plain in a bad mood because everything wasn’t going smoothly so I could be set loose to enjoy my day. My mind was swirling around the problems and I was not paying attention to what I was doing: riding my bike in traffic. I had just dropped Jack off at his preschool and I was on my way home to enjoy my five hours working on the novel I was writing. I pulled out with the green light and the car on my left turned right without looking to see if I was there.
He wasn’t going fast and he stopped before rolling over me. I wasn’t even scratched and yet my bike was badly broken. He didn’t say anything to me, he locked eyes with me and then just drove away! (turns out he was the father of one of Jack’s classmates, and he never ever made eye contact with me again, but that’s another story) I knew though if he had hit the gas to make that turn, I’d be dead.
After the shock of being hit, I walked my bike home for two miles and sobbed like I had never cried in my life. I wasn’t angry, I was broken. Inside where no one could see, I was the mangled bike. It was as if I had been slapped on the back of my head by God and he wanted me to know I walked away from the accident because He has use for me, but he wanted my attention so I’d go back to the road he wanted me to walk and leave my side trail. I understood that much before I ever reached my house. But I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I had to wrestle with myself to surrender.
It took three days of sobbing before I could agree with God and submit to His way. I couldn’t talk about it during those three days, but when I was ready I remember sitting in the hot August heat with Craig watching the little boys practice football and I told him all that God had showed me. He listens so well, and was so proud of me for struggling through the problem to see God’s design for me and trust it enough to turn around. I experienced this peace from God that I’d craved and had never known. And once I had discovered what this peace of God feels like I have been careful to examine my choices in regards to the peace I experience because I can’t let it go. Peace is a fruit of the Spirit, and it comes when I heed the direction signs God places in front of me.
I knew I was loved because God wasn’t going to allow me to go my own way, and I’m very very good at getting my own way. I was being disciplined and stopped in my own folly. He loved me so much that he wanted His best for me. He wasn’t going to shrug and say, there she goes again off on her own trail. No, he went after me, stopped me, and brought me back to the safety of his plan for me.
So I gave up driving my own life after that accident. I gave up the struggle to be in control. I learned to yield to those warning signs that say deep on the inside, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you”. Knowing for sure that God’s way is better than my way is a place of security, protection and great love. I experienced being known intimately by God, and loved enough to be disciplined so I could grow in the direction He wants me to grow. So when I say, “God’s way is always better than my way” I am thinking of that long walk back with my mangled bike, and I finish that thought with, “because he loves me.”
So…when was the first time you knew you were loved? Please share.