Where to Begin

It’s hard to know where to start to describe a weekend so full of fear, blessings, and reflections. Sometimes life events come upon us unforeseen and unbidden. Those are the times when faith, family, and friends help us overcome challenges that would be ever so much worse to face alone. To understand the fear part, imagine watching a high school cross country race on a warm morning about 60 miles from home. You cheer on your son as he passes the 2 mile mark in a 5K race. He is smiling and keeping up his usual spot in the front half of the group. You stand at the finish line and watch the runners come in. The first half passes, and you wonder why you did not see your son. Most of the runners come in, and you think maybe he finished in a big pack of kids, and you missed seeing him. The last stragglers cross the finish line, and your son is not among them. Surely he is at the finish line congratulating his teammates. But, the panic nags you that he might be up there on the hill, injured somewhere on the course. You start running up the big hill, joined by event staff and worried teammates. Yes, there is a runner down, and you know he’s yours. 

He’s unconscious on the ground. Folks are trying to cool and revive him. You hurry off to a hospital in an ambulance and hear an emergency room physician telling you many frightening possibilities. You watch your healthy young son lay unresponsive and then awake to writhe in pain from awful medical procedures. After several hours, you watch him drive off in yet another ambulance to a bigger, better equipped hospital. You follow behind for 60 miles of anguished fear. 

So, just where were the blessings in all of this? To start, both Wayne and I were at the cross country meet. Peter has run in many events, and this was the first time we have attended a meet together. I can’t imagine how the day would have been if we had not been on the scene. While we were still on the course, Peter’s teammates gathered around and formed a prayer circle. These wonderful kids joined their faith and offered up their prayers for aid. Wayne and I will never forget that sight, and our gratitude to them will never fade. Although we were 60 miles from home, my dearest friend, Gail, and her husband found their way to the hospital to provide much needed and appreciated hugs and food. Our daughter and son-in-law, Cindy and Mario, drove many miles to arrive at the second hospital ahead of us and in time to greet Peter at his arrival with a huge comforting soft teddy bear. They supported me and drove me home and stayed the night with me in our very dark house, where a big storm had cut the electrical power. 

Although the first hospital gave needed and immediate relief and treatment, it was the second hospital that provided the calm and experienced judgment of pediatric specialists who frequently treat kids’ athletic and heat stroke related injuries and could keep a level head as to exactly which tests and treatments were needed. I was filled with gratitude for the competent doctors we met who had studied and prepared themselves to calmly offer skilled care. Before long, our runner, Peter, was talking and joking and looking forward to a return to school and sports and friends. His buddy was soon at his bedside offering the best medicine that only a seventeen year old “bro’-ski” can provide. 

I’m very tired, having only been back at home for a few hours, but I reflect on how my prayers were answered and how people who could help us were put in our path. I am grateful for God who whispers peace to my heart and assurance that He loves me and my son. I’m thankful for my husband, who was at my side when I needed him and at our son’s bedside all night long. I’m in awe at the delicate balance that our bodies need to function properly under stress. It is humbling to see the devastation when simple fluids and rest are inadequate, and physical demand is too great. I don’t want to have this experience ever again, but as I lived it, I was never alone. All is well, and we will sleep much better tonight.

A Quarter of a Century, and I Remember it All

Time is a great healer.  Memories that were hard soften to reflections on blessings received and lessons learned.  Perhaps that is how old people become as wise as they are. 

This afternoon I drove Peter to the hospital to visit a young friend.  I had an hour or so to wait, so I went to a family waiting room on the pediatrics floor, and I was not prepared for what I would see.  Or maybe I was.  Four mothers of patients were there, surrounded by family and friends.  Some were obviously suffering as their tears and anguish were evident.  After awhile, I couldn't stand to watch it anymore, and I moved to another lobby. 

The thought came to mind that I personally understood the feelings of those mothers.  I have sat in that very hospital in a state of shock and sorrow and worry as my four week old daughter suddenly was in critical care with no major organ systems functioning on their own.  I felt the disconnect, the out of body sensation when reality becomes too overwhelming to process.  I felt the gripping fear when I dared to think about what could happen and how I would deal with it.  I felt the exhaustion and the worry about my two other little ones back at home.  I struggled to understand the medical terms and processes and procedures.  It was a swirling sea of anguish that I wished I could have avoided.

I remembered it all today, but what I didn't think of until our drive home was that today is the very anniversary of that scary day back in 1987.  It has been 25 years.  That baby girl is now a mother.  While I can still recall the horror, much of it has softened to peaceful gratitude.  Many people came to our aid back then.  While expert physicians worked day and night to save our baby, our friends and family cared for our little girls and our home.  They prayed for us and visited us with hugs and encouragement.  They held me when the tears came weeks and months, and even years after the crisis was over. 

A quarter century has come and gone since then.  There are life events that I can't say I am grateful to have experienced, but I am profoundly grateful for the lessons I have learned.  Maybe I'll become a wise old lady some day.  I hope so, at least the wise part.