Blessed

So, on Tuesday, I got a phone call. Matt had hit a moose. As a country girl, I had heard of many moose accidents that ended very badly. My dad hit a moose when I was younger and the only reason he came out without a scratch was because he was driving our giant, solid GMC pickup truck. So, to say I was concerned would be an understatement. Obviously, he was calling me so he wasn't dead but emotions take over easily. He quickly assured me that he was fine and the car was working. Wonderful!

He came home and the story came out. The moose came out of nowhere on the driver's side and he nicked its front leg. Some part of the moose then hit the top left corner of the windshield, the mirror was ripped off and some dents along the side. As this took Matt completely by surprise, he ended up swerving and turned 180° on the shoulder. Now, I don't know how much you know about moose accidents, etc. but if you have to hit a moose, it's best to hit the back legs. The worst is to hit in the middle but right up there is hitting it in the front, where it's big giant head is and attached are incredibly massive antlers. When I heard he hit the front of the moose, I was even more relieved that he was alright.

Today, I drove the car for the first time since the accident. I was stunned to see the smash in the windshield. My husband so easily could have been killed by that moose. Just a little harder, a few inches lower, etc. and that head would've gone through the window right to where my husband sat. I have been expressing my love a little more freely this week and saying more silent prayers. Blessed, blessed, blessed!