Tuesday, December 6, 2011

our turn

The girls and I were making cotton ball snowmen in the basement.  Pastor-daddy got a phone call, then called to us in a firm and strange voice, “Everybody, upstairs, now.” 

My first thought- the boys (out with Auntie looking at Christmas lights) 
Oh God please no.
Not the boys.  
Larry.  Bump. 

A car accident.  
The truck was totaled.  
They had to get him out with the jaws of life. 
He's on his way to the hospital.

Wide eyes. 
Tears, Heart pounding. 
I'm grabbing for something, everything, anything. “We need to pray,” I said, and I held the girls tight to me. Josh prayed with broken voice, and my tears fell with his.

I’m not sure what to do with myself.

Girls, run downstairs for a second while I talk to daddy, please? I see your wide pleading eyes. I will be RIGHT there, I promise. I just.... need a second.

How bad is it? We just don’t know. Jaws of LIFE, really?  Oh... oh, God. Oh honey. 
Oh, the girls... they need me to be with them.

Downstairs, Aggie is climbing and jumping. Lorraine is sitting wide-eyed. 
 “Aggie, stop jumping. Aggie, is that a tear?”
(Jump, skip, spin..) “Yeah mommy, the tear was just coming...”  She shrugs, and flits away. 

Oh, so that is how a hummingbird cries.

“Girls, I’m just not in the mood for our snowman craft any more, ok?”
“Me either,” said Lorraine. She needs a hug.
“But mommy, this snowman is for Bump, see? This snowman is Bump!”
She hands me her mangled, lopsided, beautiful creation. 
Bump. (Grandpa.)
Jaws of life.
Totaled truck.
“Oh Aggie.” Tears. I can’t talk again. 

Lorraine takes a deep breath, then in a quiet voice she says, “Mommy? I’m worried about Bump.  Is he going to die?” Big pleading eyes look at me, who cannot answer her question.

I don’t know what to do with myself.
We just need... to snuggle, or something. No, we don’t have to pick up. Let’s go upstairs and be with daddy. 
Later, kids in bed, Josh and I sit restlessly. Is it time to hop in the car? What do we do?
The other siblings are gathered around his hospital bed while Dad talks nonsense.

He goes. I would go, too, but I am needed more here.  
He drives through the night (in the rain, in the night, oh God have mercy..)
5am, daddy is in Michigan, safe. I sleep a little.
In the morning, prayers fill this little home like incense, and noise, like always.
I am told that grandpa is doing better.
Memory is still a concern.

Tuesday night, grandpa sleeps in his own bed. 
Not whole, but healing. 
He talks to the kids.
They are relieved enough to bicker.

Most of them ended up in my bed at night though.
Still worried. Missing daddy.
I didn't mind the company.

O God, Our help in trials past, our hope for this afternoon...

1 comment:

  1. Lord have mercy. God's peace to you and yours.


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