When she collided into more grace—

Devotional: Grace on the Tracks

“…One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
John 9:25

There are seasons when we do not drift into darkness — we spiral.

Grief collides with exhaustion. Pride masks pain. We answer, “I’m fine,” when we are unraveling. We reach for something immediate to numb what feels unbearable. A glass. A distraction. Another performance of being “okay.”

And all the while, the red lights at the railroad crossing, are flashing.

On March 1, 2010, I drove into a storm — both literal and spiritual. My mother was dying of pancreatic cancer. My father was angry at God. I was depleted from caregiving, working two jobs, and holding myself together for everyone else.

That night I crossed railroad tracks I had driven over hundreds of times before.

This time, a train was coming. The red flashing lights happened quickly. The crossing bar did not come down. Immediately, I was on the tracks.

I turned my head toward the right as the train barreled around the curve..immense light engulfing me behind the wheel. I screamed. I heard the blaring whistle and the screeching wheels. Visions flashed as I thought of my husband and children…our daughter pregnant with our first grandchild.

I expected to die.

And then — I was across, as though I was pushed over the tracks. I looked in the rear view mirror as the train screeched by.

I still cannot explain the mechanics of what happened. But I know what I heard immediately as the train passed…my name!

“Donna!”

God called my name. As a shepherd knows the name of His sheep.

In that moment, I realized something I had forgotten in my grief: He was not absent from the storm. He was in it. He had been in it all along.

The near collision exposed what I had been hiding — exhaustion, pride, and self-medicating disguised as coping. I was thirsting for something other than Christ.

That night I lay face down on my living room floor and surrendered. I opened my Bible and read:

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God…”

I was thirsty — but for the wrong well.

The train did not destroy me. It awakened me.

Healing did not happen overnight. Trauma lingered. Shame whispered. But grace kept pursuing. Through Scripture. Through prayer. Through friends who “hemmed me in.” Through art that pulled beauty from ashes.

James writes, “He gives more grace.”

More grace for grief.
More grace for pride.
More grace for addiction.
More grace for those who almost didn’t make it across the tracks.

Perhaps your storm looks different. Perhaps your train is not steel and headlights but burnout, resentment, secret habits, or silent despair.

And if you listen closely, you may hear your name spoken in the dark.

The Light still shines there.
And the darkness has not overcome it.

————

A personal note:

I share this story with trembling hands and deep gratitude.

For ten years I carried the “train story” quietly, ashamed that someone who loved Jesus could spiral into such exhaustion and unhealthy coping. Pride kept me silent far longer than pain did.

But I have learned that secrecy feeds shame, and shame withers in the presence of grace.

This is not a story about my strength. It is a story about God’s relentless pursuit. About a Shepherd who calls His sheep by name. About a Savior who meets us not after we fix ourselves — but in the storm, on the tracks, at the edge.

If you find yourself weary, hiding, or pretending you are fine, I pray this encourages you to step into the light. Ask for help. Speak the truth. Surrender again.

He gives more grace.

Always more.

Donna