Its not what you take....

So Lindz and I have both referenced our car accident from 2003 and how that (in more ways than I have words for) has shaped us into the amazing women that we are today. As a survivor we can both tell you stories about that day; about how it was, and about how we remember it. Lindsay will tell you that she was terrified that she experienced her life flashing before her and about how even though we were in south Georgia she thought that we were going to go off the side of a cliff. I will tell you about this over whelming calmness I had up until the moment we stopped and I unbuckeled my seatbelt to find my phone and call my mother. I can tell you how I know for a fact that is was a cloudless sunny morning but when I play the tape over in my head that I will forever remember it as a gloomy monday. And my mother can tell you that my frantic phone call at 7:07 am is the worst and best call a mother could get from a daughter who has been calling her far too often for being so early. Monday, April 7, 2003 will be a day that will forever be burned into our memory and will continue to shape who we are. There will be days when our expirence will empower us to step in to help when others look away and there will be somber days when we question why our lives were worth more than the lives of some others who were not as lucky. In each of these moments it is impossible to not reflect back on the past 9 years an know without a shadow of a doubt that there was a plan, that there will always be a plan and whether we choose to fight it or surrender to it, God has a perfect plan for both of us.

A farmer and a teacher, a hooker and a preacher,
Ridin' on a midnight bus bound for Mexico.
One's headed for vacation, one for higher education,
An' two of them were searchin' for lost souls.
That driver never ever saw the stop sign.
An' eighteen wheelers can't stop on a dime.

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,
Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows.
I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,
It's what you leave behind you when you go.

That farmer left a harvest, a home and eighty acres,
The faith an' love for growin' things in his young son's heart.
An' that teacher left her wisdom in the minds of lots of children:
Did her best to give 'em all a better start.
An' that preacher whispered: "Can't you see the Promised Land?"
As he laid his blood-stained bible in that hooker's hand.

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,

Why there's not four of them, Heaven only knows.

I guess it's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It's what you leave behind you when you go.

That's the story that our preacher told last Sunday.
As he held that blood-stained bible up,
For all of us to see.
He said: "Bless the farmer, and the teacher, an' the preacher"

"Who gave this Bible to my mamma,

"Who read it to me."

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway,
Why there's not four of them, now I guess we know.

It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you,

It's what you leave behind you when you go.

There are three wooden crosses on the right side of the highway.