What are your stop signs?

There are some things in life that are just so profound that we just don't forget them. Sometimes this is in the form of something big, but sometimes it could be a very small detail. One of those profound times for me is when I received the phone call on March 6th letting me know about Mario's accident. After a very hesitant and compassionate deputy coroner shared the news that Mario did not survive, she very methodically began to share the details of the accident as she knew them.

It is a very distinct moment for me when she told me of the location of the accident, describing the quick jog in road where Mario lost control of the car. Even as the fog of reality began to surround me, it is with clarity that I remember knowing the exact location she was talking about - the picture of the jog in the road easily came to mind. It was a familiar part of the country road I had traveled on many times. Even in the light of day that part of the long road could be precarious, so it was pretty easy to understand how there could be a problem when it was dark outside with no lights on the road, especially for a pretty new driver, as he was.

My mind has wondered more than once: if only there had been a stop sign there when Mario was taking that road, would he still be here with us? I cannot allow myself to dwell there. I know that Mario's destiny was written long before I ever knew it. But what if putting stop signs on that corner could prevent someone else's death? For six months, that has been a question that has rattled around in my brain.

Although unsure what it would take to get the stop signs put into place, my imagination went to work: would it be a city issue or county? Would I have to fill out a bunch of paperwork to request it? Would I have to stand in front of a panel of unknown people to petition for it? How much would it cost? Where do I even start? Am I strong enough to begin this unknown process? With no answers to any other questions, I did know for sure the answer to the last question was "no".

Until now.

Earlier this week I reached out to a friend of our family who I thought might be able to provide some direction. He agreed that something needed to be done and committed to looking into how to go about it.

Fast forward to last night when there were a series of events that happened, one right after another. I happened to run into Mario's pediatrics physician assistant whom he adored...and she adored him. I had not seen her since his death so it was an emotional time of greeting each other and catching up. Trying to keep it together while driving away from that chance meeting, the song Amazing Grace came on the radio. This is the song that I used to sing to the kids as they were growing up and one of the songs that was sung at his funeral. Of course, that brought the emotions to a new level. Towards the end of the song, my phone rang. It was the friend I had reached out to earlier in the week about the stop signs.

This is the good news I get to share....

After speaking to a few people, he was able to get into the right person in the city works area. The person he was talking to was aware of the accident and the outcome of it. Since then that area had been on their radar screen and field testing had been conducted, a federal grant had been written, and they were waiting for final approval. I instantly thought to myself, "how much could two stop signs be? Why the federal grant?" I wanted to interrupt and offer just to pay for the stop signs but instead just continued to listen. The grant, he said, was for a million dollars. Imagine my surprise! I know the government has been known in the past for charging an enormous amount of money for things, but that is ridiculous, I thought.

My friend went on to explain that the grant wasn't for stop signs, it was to redo the road. (((Pausing for effect))) It took a second for that to sink it. He continued to gently tell me that the road had been on the radar screen for some time. They knew it was an issue because there had been accidents there before, however, sometimes with things like this it isn't until there is a death that it becomes serious. A priority. And they have enough cause to push the request through. With the loss of Mario, they now had enough to push it through. And, if things go as they expect for them to, the grant will be approved, the project funded, and the road work will begin in the spring.

Anyone else feeling overwhelmed in a good way?

The first thing that came to mind is how I was just looking for some simpleton stop signs. That was my solution. But God pushed me out of the way, before I even got in the way, and went well beyond that. I am ashamed at how small I made God and the box I tried to put Him in. And I'm incredibly thankful that my God is a BIG God with whom nothing is too big or too small for.

While it is sad that someone had to die for this issue to get fixed...and not just any someone - it was our Mario. But I'm not mad. It is sad to me, but I'm not mad. Nor do I want anyone else to be. I wouldn't wish this on anyone and once the road is done, of which they say you won't hardly be able to tell there was a jog in the road, I will have the peace that no one else will die because of that jog.

And this is reason # 542 that proves Mario's death is not in vain. ("542" is a completely made up number - it's probably actually something like #999.) I still believe with all my heart that this was Mario's destiny and it was all part of the plan. I know I've said that multiple times and you may be tired of hearing it, but it is the truth that I continue to hang onto. He fulfilled his God-given purpose both in life AND in death.

I am in awe.

Lord, thank you for being in the details. Thank you for caring so much about the small and the big details of life. Forgive me for making You so small with my simple requests and for thinking I have the answers. Thank You for going so far over-the-top to show me that you love me - and many others. 

More than anything, thank You for choosing me to be Mario's mom and allowing me 17 years with him. Thank You for continuing to show me how full of life he was, and continues to be. Give my boy a hug and kiss for me (be careful, he might slobber on you on purpose) and get one back from him - he's good at that, as you must know by now.