The other night my husband and I were awakened by the sound of screeching tires and a thud.

Someone, probably impaired, had taken the corner too quickly, knocked over a stop sign and plowed right into the original 180 year old Glynn Academy schoolhouse that sits across the street from us.

Police were quickly on the scene, and from what we could tell, peering through the slats in our shutters, the driver appeared unharmed. We sleepily returned to bed concerned about the wise old building that keeps watch on the corner.

I worried about the Grecian columns, the rickety porch, the original wood siding. I fretted about the history and hoped it could withstand the misjudgment and foolish choices of modern day man.

When we ventured out in the morning, afraid of what we may find, we found that the old schoolhouse was tougher than we thought. The grass was torn up, the stop sign flattened, but the school itself remained elegantly aloof and seemingly unharmed. It appeared the oncoming car had been rebuffed by the brick piers, the driver put in his place like so many arrogant school children before him, the building not batting an eye.

It is a reminder, as I sit on my porch tonight, looking at my big old tree and the tough old schoolhouse, that I am surrounded by wisdom and strength that will outlive me.

That I have been given a seat of honor , a place of reverence, a front row view to many life lessons.

That I sit in the present at the intersection between past and future and am able to watch as they sometimes collide.