The fateful phone call to me from the airport tower.
The eariness of the quiet dark sky with only the tiny lights
of my husband's plane.
The emergency vehicles with red lights flashing in the dark, lining the runway, like part of a funeral precessional.
The delay as the keys were hunted down for the only fire truck with off-pavement tires.
The prayers. Oh the prayers, as word spread like wildfire to friends in the community and family scattered across the country.
The plane suddenly dark and dropping from the sky.
The usually calm airplane technicians screaming with alarm.
My pastor friend and I sprinting down the runway as I cried hysterically. (Are 3 day post-partum moms supposed to bolt down the runway hoping the baby's dad is still alive?)
I woke up this morning, on the anniversary of the crash, with these words running though my mind:
"...Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me..."
The replay of the accident races through my mind again. I am comforted knowing God, with His everlasting faithfulness, would have taken care of me even if David had died. But this morning, I thank God that I can clasp David's warm hand in mine as we take our daily dawn walk together around the block praying for family, friends, and neighbors.
