"It's not a contact sport" my behind.
Thursday a song about unrequited love kept running through my head as I tried desperately to fly over traffic to rush my 16-year-old to the hospital after he broke his wrist in a soccer scrimmage. Funny how a music score can play silently in the midst of life sometimes, especially when on the surface it has nothing to do with what's going on.
Grenade. Sounds war-related but it's a love song, which I guess could be war-related but shouldn't be…none of which has anything to do with my thoughts other than that's how I think, a maze of rambles.
I'd catch a grenade for ya… My hazards are blinking and I'm tryin' to do 90 but heavy traffic keeps me 15 mph below the speed limit. Is that angels keeping us safe? Curses are on my lips.
Throw my hand on a blade for ya… He maintains stoic game face until his coaches and teammates are specks in my rearview. Only then does he melt into silent puddle.
I'd jump in front of a train for ya… When he couldn't move his hands to wipe his face–his right supports the broken bones of his left–I claw for tissues in my purse-abyss and find a used napkin to erase tears. He doesn't pull away.
You know I'd do anything for ya… It's an honor to be the the only one who'll see this side; he knows a mother understands how tears prove strength, not weakness. He regains control exactly when we reach the Emergency Room door.
I would go through all this pain…. I think about all the mothers who have children with tenuous medical conditions; two are on my current radar–one, whose son at nine years old has already broken 59 bones; another, whose daughter has been through and survived more in ten years than I can wrap my brain around. There is no comparison between this singular event in my son's life and the daily challenges and heartache they face for their children.
Take a bullet straight through my brain… My heart breaks for the families who've suffered unimaginable loss. Thomas' pain is temporary; others face second-to-second lifelong pain and I know we're the lucky ones. This is when I know life ISN'T fair–why should my children live a relative pain-free, easy life and others wonder where their next meal is coming from or if anyone loves them or why they have to be so sick? Life's not fair and I know it and I thank God how good we have it…guilt slithers in; it might be false but it feels true.
Yes, I would die for you…. I put my hand on his leg and pray for Thomas and wish his pain could transfer to me. I want to bear it for him. Is this God's image imprinted on my heart? But it doesn't work that way, does it? Though a piece of my heart lives outside my body and within his own, I can't live his life for him. This won't be the last time he hurts physically, and the thought of future emotional pain isn't one I care to entertain before I have to. He'll live life the way we all do–a mixture of beauty, loss, depth, breadth, joy, pain, victory, failure, forgiveness, redemption.
I doubt Bruno Mars was thinking about his mother when he wrote Grenade…but I think he sums up how we feel pretty well….
UPDATED 3/1/11: Thomas has to have surgery scheduled for my husband's birthday. :(
I love this post! I love it! I almost cried, but I love it!
Head on over to my place. I thought of you today.
oh, friend. I had no idea this happened and it literally makes my heart ache for you. I think watching helpless is the worst feeling… and that song is never going to sound the same to me now. such a great perspective.
praying for your boy and hope healing is swift and pain is fleeting.
You know, I realized something (maybe for the first time, maybe again) as I read ” . . . wish his pain could transfer to me. I want to bear it for him.” I realized that THAT is how God loves us . . . even more. Because He sent His Son to bear the pain of our sin. What love! I know how much I love my kids, and you pretty much sum up how much you love yours . . . that little line has helped me see, yet again, how much God loves me. Thank you, friend.
Julie, thanks, friend.
gitz, I felt helpless, but I really did think about what others endure. This was nothing in comparison, but in those minutes…I ached. Much love to you!
Shelly, And because of YOU I amended my post (because I had that same thought, though unexpressed in this piece). I thought of a way to include my thoughts…I *think* it works. 🙂 Thank you!!
bless you. you know, some of my best moments with my kids have been waiting at the ER. sports injuries. and yes. we are so lucky to have the healthy ones….
great post. funny how we get this on the way to the er. Hope your boy is feeling better.
I’ve been listening to that song a lot, and thought the same thing!
This is lovely, thoughtful and true. Having been down the road to the ER with three kids of my own and sat watching siblings while my grandkids have been down that road with their moms, I know how terribly and wonderfully true it is. And I also know how many suffer so much more than I ever have or likely ever will. But when you’re in the midst of it, it’s good to remember to say thanks for the good news – but also to fully enter the pain of the bad, just as your boy did so beautifully and simply. May he heal quickly and well. God goes before and beside, through it all.
This DID make me cry! Whenever I hear that song, I just think of what a foolish man that is to give his love to a woman who is so completely indifferent to him.
But in the context of a mother’s love for a child, it does, in fact, make a bit more sense! And I know you would have taken his pain in a heartbeat if only you could have. That’s just what we parents would do for our littles.
I think this is one my favorite things that you have written. This spoke to me in so many ways. I’m currently struggling with a very selfish desire (and I usually don’t have this issue), but you just managed to jerk me right into perspective.
And your paragraph about a mother’s love/God’s love for us…so powerful!
Thank you for sharing your gift of writing with us!