Was this an Accident?
Of course, they were all fine. Our dear, sweet, beautiful Lindsay died at the accident scene along with her baby, Emily Hope. Instead of setting up the crib the next day, we were setting up their funeral.
Her baby was in her arms in the casket and our arms still feel empty. As I thought in my human condition, if only I would have hugged her a few minutes longer in the church parking lot, perhaps that other car would have hit a post-- or something, anything besides her. Brant said he was supposed to drive theother car home because it was getting uncomfortable for her to fit behind the wheel, thus he would have been able to avoid the “accident” altogether. Of course, only God knows the possible outcome of that scenario—we may have lost them both if he drove.
Where were God's mighty angels?
Later, I asked my theologian husband, Steve, the father of only one daughter, Lindsay, “Where were the angels that night for her?” I remember thinking of all the miraculous tales of others who had some event that they testified of, giving full credit to angels, and thus testifying of God’s unique love and care for
them. In this vein, I started to feel that we were somehow unworthy of the angelic attention devoted to others as heaven stopped everything to rush to the aid of the more fortunate, or more spiritual or more important. After all, it seemed to me that we were just an average family traversing life and somehow we didn’t play it quite right that night. The angels were on break or something. We stood there on the side of the road watching life unravel.
His answer was that the angels do God's bidding and so they stood with wings folded, worshipping and waiting to transport Lindsay and Emily to heaven. An hour, actually a moment, had changed our lives forever. “Your daughter has passed.” -Robyn Bloem
An excerpt from a book in the writing