Small Town

The thing I hate most about living in a small town is the same thing I love. Doesn't make much sense, I know. But whenever anything bad happens, you always know the person. Same for the good things. Everyone here knows everyone. We celebrate together and we mourn together.

Over the weekend there was a fiery crash the took the life of a pregnant 31-year-old who used to teach at my kids' school. Her husband who was 37 and the son of my daughter's former teacher, along with their 4-year old daughter, died instantly.

The 33-year-old who hit them head-on, also died. He was fleeing the scene of another accident he caused.

There was one survivor, the 3-year-old daughter. Some passersby were able to pull the baby from the car.

This little town is in mourning. At the same time, we are all praying and hoping the little one recovers. She was life-flighted out to a pediatric intensive care unit out of state. A memorial fund has been established for her. If you would like to send a card or money, send me an e-mail and I will provide you with that information.

On Sunday at church, the priest was talking about God's plan. I can't help but want to argue those statements. What good could possibly come from these types of losses?

And not that I wanted to be there, but why weren't we? My whole family was in a car traveling on the same road, in the same direction, five to seven minutes behind them. Who knows why we would stop for a car wash on a whim while on our way to the mall. I can't even remember the last time we went through an automated car wash.

My mom tells me not to question God's plan. She has told me all of my life that everything happens for a reason. I really try to buy into that but in times like these, I just don't know.

Q & As will be back tomorrow.