February 27th

On February 10th, children that go to the school I live at, my husband, a few other staff, and me were on our way to go on an outing when a oncoming truck hit our school bus. The truck was trying to pass another car and was driving insanely. As soon as the accident happened, the driver of the truck fled the scene (mostly because the crowd that had gathered to help everyone on the school bus would have literally killed him if they had gotten their hands on him). However, he had left behind a bus full of emotional, shocked, and scarred school children and a handful of adult staffers to manage them. When the crash happened, I had just looked up from my cell phone when I saw our bus collide with the truck. I didn’t hear anything for a few seconds, but when the bus settled, I heard the screaming of one of the little boys that was sitting in the front seat. The other kids were too stunned to cry then, but started when we got them all outside the bus and they could assess their wounded classmates. One boy was badly injured with his leg dangling at the shin and a few cuts to his head and face; a girl had a head wound that someone had wrapped her scarf around to keep the bleeding contained; another boy was bleeding, but at the hospital we had found out that he only had a few small cuts on his hand and head; the cook that had accompanied us had glass embedded in the top of his head. My husband Athing had cuts on both hands, bruises on his leg, and a sore jaw and shoulder, but I was fine, save the backache you get after a car accident from being lurched forward suddenly. We scooped our kids up and Athing and I rushed off to the hospital with them in the back of another school van that was there. I say rushed, but it seemed so slow in a van full of bleeding, sobbing children. When we got to the hospital, I had to split my time between the lesser injured boy and the girl, but ultimately had to stay with the girl because the boys had Athing to stay with them. All she needed was two stitches to her forehead. While we sat and waited for her mandatory hour after her stitches, she asked me why this had happened and then said it was because we hadn’t prayed that morning before leaving. I told her that sometimes these things just happen in life, but that God had protected us. Which was true! No one died! Looking at the crash, it looks like the little boys in the front should have been torn to pieces, but only broke his leg and the other was almost untouched. She was right that we didn’t pray. So many things about that morning seemed so odd now; Athing didn’t want to go on the outing, but I’ve never ever heard him say something like that about something that the kids wanted to do so badly; one of my friends that had planned the trip had gotten calls from his mother and girlfriend saying that we shouldn’t go on the trip because they had bad dreams the night before; my other friend had gotten to our outing site that morning and was totally dissatisfied with it, saying that he didn’t want to take the kids to such a crumby spot that he had heard was so beautiful and spacious; lastly, Athing and I had gotten out of our room late- so late that the kids were all yelling at us from the bus and van saying that they were ready to leave- and we didn’t even take time to pray with the kids for safety on the trip. Of course God doesn’t punish you for forgetting to pray, and that’s what I told the girl I was sitting with. He had protected us. The next day, Athing told me he had been praying about the accident and asking God why. God reminded him that our school is named Immanuel which Matthew 1:23 lets us know that it means “God with us”. He is with us. He was with that little boy that morning, making a decision to put on jeans instead of sweat pants, because jeans meant that his leg would be broken instead of completely lost. He was with the little boy who always sat in the very front, but had been taken out of the school with his brother just a few days earlier. He was with Athing who was standing in the open doorway of the bus, just about to get down and pick up something from the next shop we passed. He was with us when the driver turned our bus at the last second to better miss the truck instead of his head on. He continues to be with us because we are His children. He continues to be with the school that was named for His presence. Remember, if you’ve accepted Jesus into your heart, then He lives up to His name “God with us”. You’ve already mark yourself as His when you say that He is your savior. Take time to pray and let Him know that you love Him, or if you are not a believer, talk to Him and let Him show you His power and love. He is with us. He is Emmanuel.

Allison House Siro