Through these words I have cried my tears……
It started with a phone call. Not really the phone call every parent dreads, but close. Words proclaiming, “mom we have been in an accident”. She’s talking to me, that is slightly comforting, so no panic necessary. We turn around and I am then filled with panic of having to visit a hospital. I hate hospitals…..I panic, shake slightly and become a complete germ freak. Not once did I consider that my daughter was really hurt. It was Christmas Eve, we had just left church, her on her way to enjoy a Christmas Eve dinner and us to look at Christmas Lights. All was well, all was quiet, and all was at peace.
Flashing lights, cars, smoke and emergency vehicles fill the road ahead. Fear rises in my throat. Visions of my beautiful blue eyed daughter fill my mind and I whisper my first prayer, the first of oh so many that night. I feel lost searching for my sweet girl and direction comes. I find myself in a vehicle full of lights and words but it’s a blur and many mumbles. My focus is my baby girl, even as she is severely broken, battered and bruised she laughs. It is like music to this mama’s heart. Her words are filled with reassurance and comfort for her momma. For me, the unbroken, the unbleeding, the unhurt one. Other words fill the air, traumatic eye injury, lots of blood, extreme damage, no sight, air lift, surgery. But we were going to look at Christmas lights, Christmas is tomorrow, as was well, what has happened….my girl is covered with blood. I cannot fix this, I don’t know how to fix this. More prayers.
The night sky is overwhelmed with loud helicopter blades slicing through the air. Brothers stare out of the car eyes glossed over with awe and fear. Grandparents are praying. My heart breaks as I have to let the hand go that I have been holding for 16 years. Reassurance that I will be with her very soon leave my lips as her tears mix with blood. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I can’t move. I turn again to see two sets of eyes so filled with fear and dread. I walk slowly to bring comfort once again but I am numb and have no words. They must stay and I must go. Tears sneak down their brave faces. Any thoughts and excitement of Christmas has all but disappeared. More prayers.
Driving filled with darkness and dread. A car filled with a broken hearted mom, a loving grandmother and a strong daughter. The waiting room is filled with sickness and sadness. This is the place that Jesus lives. Even in darkness, dread, sickness and sadness He is near. I am filled with His strength as I move toward doors that will take me to my sweet baby girl. She is quiet and still as she reaches for my hand. I stay by her side through the needles, the blood, the tubes, the vomit, the tears and her heart full of fear. Time stills as immediate surgery is mentioned. Her daddy will need to be told, he is many miles away. My words to him are broken and filled with tears, others pick up the pieces. More prayers.
Another bed, another room, another voice speaking words. She is quiet, she sleeps, she is gone and once again I cannot hold her hand. God is here in the lonely, in the waiting, and in the fixing. The waiting is long and I am cold. There are others but really no one. When the waiting ends there are yet again more words; severe damage, ruptured globe, did the best we could, no vision. These are not words filled with hope and promise but she is. We find her drowsy but less battered. I find peace in hearing her breathe. Again we wait, but I can hold her hand again. More praying.
She rests and recovers and I hold her hand. The night is quite but she is not, her pain is great. Her daddy arrives and weeps and once again my girls is full of comfort and love. A smile fills her face, a face that is not the same but oh so beautiful. Her life is filled with pain, recovery, rest, surgeries, relearning, hard work, and so much faith. This girl is special, this girl lives her faith, this girl embraces forgiveness, this girl is brave, this girl brings beauty and joy to all those around her. She is my daughter and I am her momma and this is our story of the Christmas Eve that will never be forgotten. Always Praying.