How can it get any worse?

Last week at the girls' soccer practices, another mom lamented to me about how she and her husband had to replace the roof of a house they are trying to sell in the Lower 48.

"It's the worst!!!" she seethed, and she meant it. "I mean, really: how can it get any worse? Why don't you just go out and hit my car in the parking lot?"

It's ironic that she would say that to me, because a few weeks ago I was involved in a fender bender that was absolutely 100 percent my fault. It resulted in a broken taillight to a man's truck and a hefty dent for me. I was very apprehensive that he was going to come unglued. I offered a heartfelt apology, and then emphatically restated it.

Then he told me: "Stop. This is not worthy of you or me being upset. This is a little thing. And I know what a big thing is."

Before he had the chance to say anything else, I said I understood - I had gone through cancer treatment last year and I got what he was saying. He agreed with me - he said I did seem to know what he meant. Then he offered: "I lost an adult son just more than a decade ago myself, so I also get what big things are. This little accident is nothing - don't let it ruin your day."

"The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple." Psalm 119:130

Suddenly the broken taillight and the big dent were peanuts. In a few moments, this yucky situation was upended in to being a blessing. No one had been hurt. No one was dead. No was was battling cancer, or making a running list of songs in her iphone to be played at her memorial service. And doggone, I was getting schooled in remembering that.

Back at the soccer field, I actually considered taking this woman up on her offer to give her a big juicy dent in her car. After my own recent fender bender experience, I had plenty of answers to her rhetorical question: How can it get any worse?

You could get cancer.
Or your husband could get cancer.
Or one of your kids could die.

I am certain that if presented with these other options, this mother would have agreed with me 1000 percent. However, I remained silent as the mom vented. I'm not sure if it's possible to wholly understand how easy it is for these alternatives to happen until you've lived it. To the rest of the world, options like that sound like mean-spirited hyperbole.

I'll also confess: I remained quiet because I hate the idea of being known as the woman with the sweeping violin crescendo following her everywhere she goes. She had cancer and watch out - she will relate it to everything in her life.

God has a purpose for everything - He seriously and really does. Although I hated going through last year, I love the delicious dose of perspective it has allowed me. Erasing cancer and the related experiences from my brain minimizes what God is trying to do through and because of it.

The man and the taillight? At the scene we agreed it was likely going to cost a few hundred bucks because of the damage. He called a week later and said he was able to find another, and he and his buddy installed it. Could I write him a check for $50?

It seemed like a tiny price to pay for the valuable reminder I'd been given.