George and I live alone now. Well, we are not entirely alone. George's Mom, 87 years old, lives on the same property in her mobile home, Steve-a good friend- has a room in our house that was emptied by the children leaving, we have 3 Cavalier King Charles Spaniels which are all 'fixed' and we have 15 Saint Bernards of which only one is 'fixed'.
The kids made noise that I miss, and don't miss. The dogs help to fill a void the children left. For the most part, the dogs are better behaved. They love to go anywhere with us and never ask "Are we there yet?". They never ask for the keys on Sabbath night and then wreck the car. I have not spent thousands of dollars on their teeth! None of them has ever asked for $20 just to be caught out drinking beer and driving as a minor. I have not yet had to visit one in jail. They are always here for us and always love us, even if we have been a little cross. They are obedient. They eat what they are given and never say, "What? This AGAIN!" They are greatful for any hand out or pet we afford them. They often give us reason to be proud of them when we take them to the dog shows and win the ribbons. I really love my dogs, they are easier than my children were. But I love my children, all of them, even the most confused ones.
January 27, 2009, I had a terrible head on collusion. I was driving my beloved little blue VW bug, on the way back home from Burleson. I did not want George to have to go to market after he got off from work, because an ice storm was predicted to come through about 1 PM. It was a slow, cold drizzle, but the roads were not yet icy. George had asked me to be careful, I was driving a bit slower than the 4 cars behind me wanted to go, because I was being careful, and I had prayed for protection. On a curve about 2 miles North of Keene on Old Betsy road, a lady took her eyes off the road for a moment, went straight instead of following the curve and ran right into me. It all happened in an instant, I had time to start to pull to the right, but not enough time, and we hit head on, on the driver's side. If I had, had more time, I likely would have been dead, because she would have hit me broadside on the driver's side and I might have rolled.
Both cars spun around, both totalled. The traffic behind me managed to stop. I was so stunned & could not get my breath, The seat belt, the air bag, and the pushed in left side of the car had made injurys I was not aware of yet, I just wanted to breathe again and I jsut prayed until I did. Then I just sat there and said, "Thank you Jesus" over and over again.
I tried not to panic as I realized the doors would not open. Several people were beside me now, talking to me. The driver's side window was broken out. I kept saying, "I want out, help me get out", and they kept saying "Wait for the perimedics!" I saw two semis coming over the hill and watched as they struggled to stop in time. I had it in my head that being in the middle of the road was not a good idea and that I would be hit again. I was also worried about the car burning and had turned off the ignition. I did not know that a diesel does not explode and burn like a gas driven car will when wrecked. I decided to crawl through the drivers side window, but could not get the seat belt undone. The plastic casing had been broken off. I could not see it, but I reasoned that there must be a metal part in there that was fastened and I should be able to unfasten it. I determined to and eventualy got it undone. Now I am a large lady and not young, so it must have been a trip to see me climb out of that window. Some men tried to stop me, but I said "I am coming out this window and you can watch me land on my head or help me!" A young, very short lady, a real sweetheart, understood I was desperate to be out, and rushed over to let me lean on her while I oozed myself through that broken window. She was barely strong enough to keep us both from going to the ground. God love her! I was so thankful to be OUT!
But now I could hardly walk and begin to feel the pain. I could not call George, who I knew at this time would be on the road to home for lunch, because the screen on my phone was broken. Just then George called and I told him were I was and to come get me. The perimedics arrived and I watched as they used the jaws of life to rescue the lady driver of the other car. She was bleeding badly and someone was giving her aid from the other side as they bent and cut the twisted metal from her. I knew she was far worse off than I was. Once they had her out they wanted to load me into the ambulance with her and take us both to a hospital in Ft Worth, but I declined, saying George was coming and would take me to be checked out. I would not let them take me to Ft Worth because then George would have to drive in the ice storm to see me or get me, and he might have a wreck too.
The wreckers came and I knew one of them, the son of the local station owner in Keene. He came over and asked, "Mrs Ghering, are you OK?" I said, "I'm fine, but I don't know if I will ever be OK again." and buried my head on his shoulder. He gave me the comfort of his arms and it was good to have someone I knew there to hold me. I am not aware if that young man realized how much he gave me, but it calmed me and made me feel safe and I quit feeling panicked. It did not seem strange to me, to have a man the age of one of my sons hold me, it seemed perfectly safe and good. I expect he was doing what he hoped someone would do for his Mother should she need it. Then George was there, the police had arrived and urged George to take me to the hospital since I had refused the ambulance. And that is what he did.
We learned that I had 8 broken ribs, a broken colar bone, a mashed up left knee but not broken, a severly sprained right wrist, a chipped vertebrae and a small laceration on my spleen, there were many cuts and bruises as well. My nerves were pretty shot. I did not enjoy the hospital stay, and was thankful to be alive and to get to go home.
The kids made noise that I miss, and don't miss. The dogs help to fill a void the children left. For the most part, the dogs are better behaved. They love to go anywhere with us and never ask "Are we there yet?". They never ask for the keys on Sabbath night and then wreck the car. I have not spent thousands of dollars on their teeth! None of them has ever asked for $20 just to be caught out drinking beer and driving as a minor. I have not yet had to visit one in jail. They are always here for us and always love us, even if we have been a little cross. They are obedient. They eat what they are given and never say, "What? This AGAIN!" They are greatful for any hand out or pet we afford them. They often give us reason to be proud of them when we take them to the dog shows and win the ribbons. I really love my dogs, they are easier than my children were. But I love my children, all of them, even the most confused ones.
January 27, 2009, I had a terrible head on collusion. I was driving my beloved little blue VW bug, on the way back home from Burleson. I did not want George to have to go to market after he got off from work, because an ice storm was predicted to come through about 1 PM. It was a slow, cold drizzle, but the roads were not yet icy. George had asked me to be careful, I was driving a bit slower than the 4 cars behind me wanted to go, because I was being careful, and I had prayed for protection. On a curve about 2 miles North of Keene on Old Betsy road, a lady took her eyes off the road for a moment, went straight instead of following the curve and ran right into me. It all happened in an instant, I had time to start to pull to the right, but not enough time, and we hit head on, on the driver's side. If I had, had more time, I likely would have been dead, because she would have hit me broadside on the driver's side and I might have rolled.
Both cars spun around, both totalled. The traffic behind me managed to stop. I was so stunned & could not get my breath, The seat belt, the air bag, and the pushed in left side of the car had made injurys I was not aware of yet, I just wanted to breathe again and I jsut prayed until I did. Then I just sat there and said, "Thank you Jesus" over and over again.
I tried not to panic as I realized the doors would not open. Several people were beside me now, talking to me. The driver's side window was broken out. I kept saying, "I want out, help me get out", and they kept saying "Wait for the perimedics!" I saw two semis coming over the hill and watched as they struggled to stop in time. I had it in my head that being in the middle of the road was not a good idea and that I would be hit again. I was also worried about the car burning and had turned off the ignition. I did not know that a diesel does not explode and burn like a gas driven car will when wrecked. I decided to crawl through the drivers side window, but could not get the seat belt undone. The plastic casing had been broken off. I could not see it, but I reasoned that there must be a metal part in there that was fastened and I should be able to unfasten it. I determined to and eventualy got it undone. Now I am a large lady and not young, so it must have been a trip to see me climb out of that window. Some men tried to stop me, but I said "I am coming out this window and you can watch me land on my head or help me!" A young, very short lady, a real sweetheart, understood I was desperate to be out, and rushed over to let me lean on her while I oozed myself through that broken window. She was barely strong enough to keep us both from going to the ground. God love her! I was so thankful to be OUT!
But now I could hardly walk and begin to feel the pain. I could not call George, who I knew at this time would be on the road to home for lunch, because the screen on my phone was broken. Just then George called and I told him were I was and to come get me. The perimedics arrived and I watched as they used the jaws of life to rescue the lady driver of the other car. She was bleeding badly and someone was giving her aid from the other side as they bent and cut the twisted metal from her. I knew she was far worse off than I was. Once they had her out they wanted to load me into the ambulance with her and take us both to a hospital in Ft Worth, but I declined, saying George was coming and would take me to be checked out. I would not let them take me to Ft Worth because then George would have to drive in the ice storm to see me or get me, and he might have a wreck too.
The wreckers came and I knew one of them, the son of the local station owner in Keene. He came over and asked, "Mrs Ghering, are you OK?" I said, "I'm fine, but I don't know if I will ever be OK again." and buried my head on his shoulder. He gave me the comfort of his arms and it was good to have someone I knew there to hold me. I am not aware if that young man realized how much he gave me, but it calmed me and made me feel safe and I quit feeling panicked. It did not seem strange to me, to have a man the age of one of my sons hold me, it seemed perfectly safe and good. I expect he was doing what he hoped someone would do for his Mother should she need it. Then George was there, the police had arrived and urged George to take me to the hospital since I had refused the ambulance. And that is what he did.
We learned that I had 8 broken ribs, a broken colar bone, a mashed up left knee but not broken, a severly sprained right wrist, a chipped vertebrae and a small laceration on my spleen, there were many cuts and bruises as well. My nerves were pretty shot. I did not enjoy the hospital stay, and was thankful to be alive and to get to go home.
That is when I started thinking about death a lot. When I saw my car, I knew I could have easily died in the wreck. I was convicted that God wanted me alive for some reason. I had lots of time to think, I was uncomfortable even watching TV, my only bearable position was flat on my back. I did not want to use my body. I waited as long as possible to sit up and use the bedside potty. My left shoulder and right wrist made it impossible to hold a book to read. I slept and I thought. What had I ever done in this life to deserve to keep living? Nothing. I thought of all the things I had done that I had felt proud of, and decided they did not amount to a hill of beans. I had an angel, sent by God to keep me alive, and there had to be a reason. So I decided I should live my life to discover what that purpose was and to fulfill it. Since then I have found a few little things that seemed oportune to fulfill God's wish in my life, but nothing huge, so I keep looking every day. It may be all the little things added up together that he wants, or he wants me to get ready for some larger request he has for me. I only hope and pray I will see and be able to do it. For some strange reason I am no longer afraid of dying. I think when it is my time to go, I will go, and it will be in God's timing. My life is in God's hands, what have I to fear?
Hanging over my bed is a drawing of Jesus holding a little baby that sleeps on his shoulder. This pastel drawing hung where my Daddy could see it from his bed, for as long as I could remember. When I was still quite young I asked him about his love of that picture. He said, "I am that baby that Jesus is holding. I am his little child. My life is in his hands." That touched me so much. When he came to live with us, the picture came and hung where he could gaze at it from his bed. I know many prayers were said while he looked at that picture of Jesus holding him. I had the picture bordered & glass put in it for him one Christmas, keeping the antique frame it had always been in. He appreciated that and when he want to the nursing home, the picture did too. When Daddy died, the picture came to rest on the wall beside my side of the bed. I draw comfort from looking at the tender Jesus and the peacefully sleeping child. I am not afraid as long as I am Jesus little child, my life, my death, is in his hands.
Hanging over my bed is a drawing of Jesus holding a little baby that sleeps on his shoulder. This pastel drawing hung where my Daddy could see it from his bed, for as long as I could remember. When I was still quite young I asked him about his love of that picture. He said, "I am that baby that Jesus is holding. I am his little child. My life is in his hands." That touched me so much. When he came to live with us, the picture came and hung where he could gaze at it from his bed. I know many prayers were said while he looked at that picture of Jesus holding him. I had the picture bordered & glass put in it for him one Christmas, keeping the antique frame it had always been in. He appreciated that and when he want to the nursing home, the picture did too. When Daddy died, the picture came to rest on the wall beside my side of the bed. I draw comfort from looking at the tender Jesus and the peacefully sleeping child. I am not afraid as long as I am Jesus little child, my life, my death, is in his hands.
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