It's not, "what happened???"

In our house we use a familiar phrase, "Wit happened."

It works in place of, "What happened?"

Something broken?  Wit happened.

Something cut up or torn to pieces?  Wit happened.

Huge crash coming from mom & dad's room?  Wit happened.

Apple juice cascading down the fridge?  Wit happened.

Candy wrappers shoved in all the floor vents?  Wit happened.

Dog food trail all over the house?  Wit happened.

I bet you are getting the drift.  Wit is our lovable, energetic, 100% independent child.  Pretty typical of a third kid.  He is street smart.  Lives life to the EDGE AND LOUDLY.    A go-getter.  If he wants it, he will find a way.

AT FULL SPEED.

He is a walking bruise.  Scabs on both knees and elbows.  Always.

But, boy, is he charming. 

My biggest fear and challenge mothering him is that I have to constantly think 3 steps ahead.  I can usually anticipate what he is going to do, but sometimes not in time.  Sometimes I am too late.  Sometimes he gets hurt or something gets broken.  I can't tell you how many times I have woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about "what could have been." 

I have never been more aware that God is in control, not me.  This child has brought me to my knees praying earnestly for safety and protection.

I am convinced that God has heard my prayers.

A couple of weeks ago could have been one of those horrible moments that would have changed our lives forever. 

But God.

Wit and I were in a parking lot talking to a dear friend.  Wit was getting wild and started climbing on the roof of my van.  He does that.  I hate it.  I finally got him off the van and opened the doors to let him climb inside while I finished my conversation.

The van was off.

In park.

Keys in my purse.

I opened the two front doors to let the air move through while he climbed around.  I saw him climb from the middle row up to the front.  He was sitting on the arm rest between the driver's seat and passenger's.  He jerked his body forward reaching for something.

And the van started to move.

We were parked on a really steep and dangerous hill.

I was struggling to comprehend why the van was moving and started to run alongside it.  All the while, Wit started to scream.

He was still in the front, doors open.

I thought maybe, JUST MAYBE, I could run and jump into the car.  There was no way.  It was moving faster now.

My friend and I were trying desperately to hold on and run with it.

We couldn't keep up.

We had to let go.

I just kept praying that Wit wouldn't jump out, or fall out.  He would have been run over, I am certain of it.

The van continued to roll down and pick up speed.  Forty feet ahead was a small cliff.  It was headed straight for it. 

With my baby.

(I thought I could write this and not get emotional...)

(Ugly cry)

(Deep breath)

All of the sudden, the van turned sharply, jumped a huge curb and rolled down a steep grassy hill.

Then it slammed to a STOP in the side of a church. 

All I could think about was getting my baby out of that car as fast as possible.  My friend grabbed her phone and called for help.  I ran for Wit.

He was still in the front seat.  Crying.  Screaming.

I pulled him out and ran.

We collapsed on the grassy hill and all I could do was whisper...

THANK YOU, JESUS.

Over and over and over.

Wit was in shock and couldn't speak for a little while.  All he had was a bruise on his left arm where he hit the cup holder.

The van?  The back end completely folded in.  Glass everywhere.  Bricks from the building on the ground.

Pictures don't do it justice.

It could have been a disaster.  But God saved my baby.  God saved our family. 

God saved me.

It was my dear friend that held me tightly and showed me that the van crashed right under the church steeple.  Twenty feet under the cross.  I have never been more convinced that God is in control.

It didn't take Wit long to rebound.  He is still as wild and crazy as ever.  There is a small part of me that wishes this would have changed his fearlessness just a little.  He isn't afraid of anything.

But I am.  I am fearful that one day I will miss it.  One day I will let my guard down just enough to not see what danger is in front of him.  One day, I won't be there to catch him.

Then, I am reminded, that on this day, I couldn't do anything.  God did it all. 

And will continue to do it.  He never sleeps.  Never lets His guard down.  Never drops the ball.

He whispers, "Trust me, Janelle.  I love him, too."

"Wit happened."

Praise God for that.