Out of the blue

Norton and I wander down the path through the cornfield. Tall, lush plants wall us in. Tropical conditions this summer have been ideal for corn. It could be a bumper crop. Or it could be a repeat of 1992. Similar weather that year produced an incredible stand. Then relentless autumn rains ruined the entire crop with mould. I shake my head. In 45 years of farming we’ve only ever had two crop failures. Still, nothing is certain in this life. A fact I’ve been painfully aware of lately.

The sapphire sky above me draws my mind to July 1 – another glorious summer day. Corn that should have been “knee-high by the first of July” was already up to our waists. Jack and I decided to take advantage of the wall-to-wall sunshine and spend the afternoon on our motorcycles.

For me it was particularly sweet. Three years of diligent exercises and the miracle of anti-inflammatory medication had made it possible for me to ride on two wheels again. So here I was – cruising along Highway 6 on a brand new, stealth red Triumph Bonneville. Living the dream.

Just ahead a car stood on the opposite shoulder of the road, facing toward us. Suddenly it darted across the oncoming lane and then pulled directly into our path. The driver had launched into a swift U-turn without looking. We had no time to do anything but brake hard and fast.

Jack’s bike smashed into the passenger side of the car. He flew off like a rag doll. I braced for impact and wondered if I would also be thrown. With a sickening thud my bike slammed into Jack’s. My body lurched forward and then returned to the seat. I pried myself out from between the wreckage and stood, trembling. Where is my husband? Is he still alive?! I called into the com set, but there was no answer.

Shaky & thankful

People stopped to help and scrambled frantically around me. The driver of the car climbed out, wailing his apologies. And then finally – there came Jack, bloody nose, one boot missing, staggering out of the deep ditch like Frankenstein, but on his own steam. He never looked better to me!

Every first responder expressed amazement at how we were still standing. They kept telling us how “lucky” we were. I remember mumbling “blessed” at one point. “How do you feel?” a police officer asked me a while later. I took inventory before I answered, “Shaky. Stunned. And really, really, thankful!”

Five weeks later the physical bruises are mostly healed. The insurance company is stalling. Our summer riding season is evaporating like the morning mist. Jack continues with physio for his foot. But we’re muddling along, remembering the joy of riding together for more than 20 years and clocking hundreds of thousands of kilometers without incident. Then, without warning, one man’s reckless behaviour changed everything.

Still, there’s a wondrous comfort in the summer sky. It resonates in the deepest part of my soul. He has set his glory above the heavens, says Psalm 8. That must be it! The assurance that no matter what – God is in charge – above and beyond all. Sunshine or storms – he’s with us. Something to keep in mind as I search for blessings, awaiting their arrival – right out of the blue!