We call it our “Faith Box,” the 7x12-inch glass-fronted display case that hangs above the piano. It’s full now of tiny things that remind us of faith-stretching times of our lives.
A small bag of broken auto glass from our wrecked family car (bottom row, second from right) represents the October night in 1997 when we came within inches of a head-on, fatal crash caused by a speeding, drinking driver. Instead, he “T-boned” us, destroying our car and leaving us injured but alive. A few years later the nightmare became my call to action. I began speaking to convicted drunk drivers.
By their body language, most reveal their disgust for being required as part of their sentencing to attend this non-profit “educational panel” featuring drunk driver victims. Yet afterwards, some come up and thank me graciously for telling our story and those of friends, like our former neighbor and babysitter, Angela. She had grown up to be an excellent violinist and music teacher. A wrong-way drunk driver near Albany, Ore., killed her at 31. She became one of an estimated 15,000 a year killed by alcohol- or drug-impaired drivers.
Other tokens in our box don’t have such sobering connections. A tiny paper scroll labeled “mortgage” represents the joyful day we paid off our home loan early. Another paper simply said “Mammo—Psalm 90” for the Bible passage that carried me through uncertainty with a cancer biopsy. A single wrapped Lifesaver ® candy represents my husband surviving a river-tubing accident-- a story our children had not heard until we assembled the Faith Box. One holds a little acorn pin, given my husband one year for an “Outstanding Teacher” award. Tiny books represent the profound privilege I’ve had to write published books. Even my daughter added to the Faith Box, slipping in a note about how money came for her to participate in a junior high class field trip to Washington, D.C.
Some friends inspired our “Faith Box” after telling how they framed the first dollar they earned after working off a large debt. Later, in reading Joshua 4, I read of how the Israelites, while miraculously crossing the river bed of the halted Jordan into Canaan, gathered river stones and restacked them as a “faith memorial” for future generations. Gathering our own tokens of faith-events, we created our current box.
It’s good to remember milestones, just as long as we don’t get stuck in the memories. That’s why I embrace this principle: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I [God] am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:18-19).
A small bag of broken auto glass from our wrecked family car (bottom row, second from right) represents the October night in 1997 when we came within inches of a head-on, fatal crash caused by a speeding, drinking driver. Instead, he “T-boned” us, destroying our car and leaving us injured but alive. A few years later the nightmare became my call to action. I began speaking to convicted drunk drivers.
By their body language, most reveal their disgust for being required as part of their sentencing to attend this non-profit “educational panel” featuring drunk driver victims. Yet afterwards, some come up and thank me graciously for telling our story and those of friends, like our former neighbor and babysitter, Angela. She had grown up to be an excellent violinist and music teacher. A wrong-way drunk driver near Albany, Ore., killed her at 31. She became one of an estimated 15,000 a year killed by alcohol- or drug-impaired drivers.
Other tokens in our box don’t have such sobering connections. A tiny paper scroll labeled “mortgage” represents the joyful day we paid off our home loan early. Another paper simply said “Mammo—Psalm 90” for the Bible passage that carried me through uncertainty with a cancer biopsy. A single wrapped Lifesaver ® candy represents my husband surviving a river-tubing accident-- a story our children had not heard until we assembled the Faith Box. One holds a little acorn pin, given my husband one year for an “Outstanding Teacher” award. Tiny books represent the profound privilege I’ve had to write published books. Even my daughter added to the Faith Box, slipping in a note about how money came for her to participate in a junior high class field trip to Washington, D.C.
Some friends inspired our “Faith Box” after telling how they framed the first dollar they earned after working off a large debt. Later, in reading Joshua 4, I read of how the Israelites, while miraculously crossing the river bed of the halted Jordan into Canaan, gathered river stones and restacked them as a “faith memorial” for future generations. Gathering our own tokens of faith-events, we created our current box.
It’s good to remember milestones, just as long as we don’t get stuck in the memories. That’s why I embrace this principle: “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I [God] am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:18-19).
God is still in the business of offering fresh starts. After an auto wreck…or a personal or business wreck. I’m a different person because of these faith-moments, and that’s a good thing.
