Yesteray morning as I was hunting in the coat closet for leather gloves to send along with Timmy and Danny who were soon leaving to do yard work for someone,
something went down the wrong pipe.
Suddenly, I couldn't catch a breath--at all.
I felt like I couldn't get enough breath to cough.
I inherited my mom's propensity to choke on next to nothing, and I've had some bad choking spells, but this one was, I think, the worst I've ever had.
What must have been a little glob of sticky phlegm had suddenly gotten stuck in my windpipe, and no matter how hard I tried, for some seconds, I was not getting much of anywhere with getting any breath.
I was making motions at the girls with eyes that must have been popping out of my head
and then went hurrying toward Jonathan, who was coming in the door at that moment.
He gave me a whack on the back, and suddenly he, the two girls, and Timmy were all looking at me with alarm.
I wheezed in a tiny bit of air and choked it back out, wheeeeeezed in another bit of air, and coughed it violently back out.
I must have sounded beyond horrible, trying to get air.
Jonathan stayed right beside me, watching, and somehow I suddenly felt I was getting a tiny bit of air.
Cough, cough, choke, struggle!
Whew!
My whole chest prickled after that, and today I ache from the violent coughing.
I literally thought that might be the end of me.
I had been so worried about my middle children staying safe from vehicle accidents; I had heard Jonathan's story about the rattlesnake; and I remembered Sam telling about the white sheet of light and the BOOM of apparent lightning right where he was a couple days ago.
And then I choke on a tiny dab of phlegm and glimpse death's door myself!
I went out later to the front porch and sat on the porch swing and cried.
Jonathan and I had an extra long hug before he left, and our "I love you's" were much more tender and heartfelt than usual.
It reminded me once again of how our very breath comes from God.
In just a second, I was without air and knew I only had seconds or minutes to get it back.
I wasn't thinking of praying, I wasn't thinking about God, I was just thinking about trying to get my breath.
Every second that we breathe in and out (rarely noticing it) is from His mercy.
I was so thankful that I could look back only an hour before that choking spell
to tender moments with Jonathan as we were waking up,
to happy moments puttering about tasks in the kitchen while everyone was doing chores.
No fights, arguments, anger, fusses, complaints.
I wasn't even fussing at the dogs!
Not every morning is that great, I confess. And that is why I try to make things right quickly if I have been wrong or had a bad attitude.
Because I know that every breath is from God.
Today, the morning was especially peaceful.
And every moment of it, every breath of it came from God.
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