There but for the grace of God

I am a very spiritual person without (I hope) being overly religious. I do go to church, but I feel free to skip a week here and there. I say bad words. I have sex. I can be hedonistic, and I try to enjoy my life. But I do feel connected to a higher power.

That came into deep focus for me yesterday. I live in a colonial, with a very steep staircase between the floors. With the little guy busily walking around, we have put up gates. Everywhere, that is, except the top of the stairs.

Boo's bedroom is right across the hall from ours, and he likes to come visit. He has a healthy respect for the stairs, but I have been concerned about him tripping and falling down the staircase. So I bought a gate. And I asked M to install it. Well, life got away from us, and it sat in a box in our dining room.

Until yesterday.

Boo was walking and tripped, just as I had been afraid he would. He started to tumble down the stairs. I managed to grab his little arm just in time and yank him back to safety. He knew what had happened and clung to me. I clung to him. He was shaking. I was shaking. Holy shit. I dropped to my knees and thanked God and Jesus Christ for protecting my precious, precious son. (I just reread that sentence, and it sounds overwrought, but honestly, I believe that's what happened.)

So I called M and told him I didn't know what he had planned for the evening, but I knew what he was doing: Putting up the gate. He did. One less thing to worry about. Still, as Boo and I were going about our day yesterday, enjoying ourselves, I kept thinking: But for the grace of God I am not spending my day in the emergency room. Thank you, Lord.