On Sunday night my car got hit in the church parking lot with no perpetrator in sight.
On Monday night, while getting the broccoli, I slammed the freezer door so hard into my face that it caused me to fall to the ground, burst into tears, and look in the mirror to find a dented and crooked nose.
On Sunday night Walker and I thought we would have to pay our insurance for partial cost of the hit and run.
On Monday night we debated going to the emergency room and then decided to just wait until the next day to get x-rays from my primary care doctor.
It’s been one of those years where sometimes we’ve felt like we just can’t get a break.
On Sunday night an honest, young lady came forward later in the night to tell us she hit my car, and her dad agreed to pay the $1500 in damages with no question and many apologies.
On Monday night while we slept, the swelling went down to reveal a slightly less dented nose and only a crookedness that the two of us could notice. It has continued to heal without a trip to the doc.
This week we caught two breaks. And we are grateful. For honest people. And for ice. But most of all for grace.