I wonder how many times I have said those words in my lifetime. Many, many, many.
Lots of people attribute those words to John Bradford, who was burned at the stake as a Protestant during the reign of Mary I of England (Bloody Mary). Apparently, while he was imprisoned, he saw a number of men going to their deaths, and said, "There but for the Grace of God, goes John Bradford. "
Interesting how he was able to look at his own terrible situation, and see how it could be much worse. And with his great faith, he could see God's hand in that.
Other folk might call it "dodging the bullet." I tend to side with Bradford in his take on the situation.
Thursday morning, Bob woke up with totally debilitating vertigo. I woke up with him calling for me from the bathroom floor.
Ambulance. Local hospital. LONG ambulance ride with Jordan and me following. Hospital in Wisconsin. Loads of tests.
Scary day. BUT, by the grace of God, it wasn't a stroke, circulatory problem, heart attack, cancer, not related to type II diabetes. Probably just a virus.
Day 3, he's home, still dizzy, but can function from couch/bathroom/bed. When I think how things could have turned out....
The kicker is, there had been a possibility on Wednesday afternoon that Bob was going to start making the trip, ALONE, back to Iowa, with the possibility of the moving company picking up our grand piano, THURSDAY MORNING. We decided that we would rather wait a few days and have a later pickup with more advanced notice.
There but for the grace of God....
I get it, God. Truly. It is a GIFT to be able to wait on Bob a little today, as he recovers.
Peggy gets it, too, as he takes it easy snuggling up to Bob on the couch for moral support.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank You.
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