Developing Horizons Magazine (2).pdf Spring 2017 DHM A | Page 13
...in Blood on the Dash
miracle that he did not hit another
car or kill someone. He crashed
again going down over an embank-
ment. No one was dead, no one
was handicapped for life, and no
one was seriously hurt. God loved
him and had given him grace. One
week later, Adam walked across the
field at his high school in cap and
gown and honors tassels reflecting
his 97.5 GPA. He had to be driven
there; he had no car and it was only
a matter of paperwork before his
license would be taken from him,
but he was alive and not physically
broken. The pictures taken that day
did little to capture the turmoil and
pain, or show the absolute horror of
just seven days before. If one looked
carefully though, he or she might
see the deer- in- the-headlights look
in my eyes.
The day after Adam’s graduation
and eight days after the accident,
I felt the need to go to church and
give thanks. I had not been in
church except for special events
in about sixteen years and I hadn’t
talked to God in about thirty. I
picked a church that was the closest
to the scene of his first accident.
I felt like I needed to give thanks
and I needed to start a relationship
with God. I sat between two friends,
whom I did not know attended
there until I walked in that morning
and alternately leaned on one or the
other. They are both blonde so to
this day I refer to them as my two
golden angels. They had no knowl-
edge of the accident or of anything
else that had been going on. I cried
and they held me up.
I headed from the church to the
scene of the second accident and
there I talked to God. If anyone had
heard me that day, he or she might
have said it was not a conversation.
I was more like a wild crazy woman
down over an embankment, my
arms waving around, incoherently
crying aloud. I told Him I could not
do it anymore,
I begged Him
to help me; I
needed Him.
I needed His
comfort and I
needed Him to
look after my
son. The answer
I heard that day
was that He
already was and
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that I needed to let go. That Sunday
almost seven years ago was the be-
ginning of my return to the church.
I had been away too long. Even
though I had turned my back so
many years before, I, too, had been
given grace. God’s love was faithful
and always present. I just needed to
seek Him.
About the author:
The author wishes to remain anon-
ymous but explains: This article is
part of a journal started eight years
ago when my son, who was sixteen
at the time, began to use pot and
alcohol to start an unfavorable
relationship with the law. The story
has not ended. God’s grace never
does.
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Testimony
TIM BURCH
Cell: 828-361-1112
[email protected]
34 Waldroup Rd.
P.O. Box 237
Hayesville, NC 28904
Office: 828-389-2486
232-A Chatuge Way
P.O. Box 750
Hiawassee, GA 30546
Office: 706-896-6442
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Spring 13