A friend of mine and I went out to eat at a quirky, local, hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The tables bore the marks of years of use, and the booths were cramped and had holes in the vinyl. Basically, it's our favorite place to eat.
During dinner, my friend and I did what this friend and I always do, laugh way too loud and delve into all things Jesus. Not the surface-level, platitudes, but the deep. The messy. The ugly.
We talked about trusting God not just with the small things, but with the big things.
Our talk led me back to the night of the car wreck when I was standing on the side of the road, and Office Pirtle told me there were no survivors.
That was the moment my husband, five and a half-year-old daughter and 19-day old son died.
It took me back to the instant where life as I knew it was never the same.
It was the marker in my life of Before and After.
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