I can’t take much more of this. I consider myself fairly strong when it comes to my children being hurt, emotionally or physically, but the most recent incidents have burdened me to a breaking point. Parenting is not for the faint of heart, but what do you do when your heart is faint?
Just under four weeks ago, Caleb broke his thumb. According to the casting technician, he was her first “sledding down the stairs on mattresses when my sister landed on my hand” bone break. Glad we could spice up her tale tally, but do we get a discount for him being the fourth of my children to make it into the orthopedist’s office?
Less than two weeks ago, Anna sprained her foot playing Round Robin, but the pain was so bad we initially believed she’d broken it. After three and a half hours spent at Immediate Care, because of course she hurt it on the weekend, and a couple of x-rays later, we were thrilled to find out it was only a sprain. She was given a most unfashionable boot to wear, directions to stay off of it for a long while, and sent on her merry way. Little did the doctor know who she was dealing with because Anna was back to basketball practice days later, “running” suicides with the rest of the team until her coach finally told her to go sit down!
Less than four days ago, Ellie dislocated her shoulder so badly she couldn’t get it back in on her own, earning herself a four hour trip to the ER. It didn’t take long for the questions of “what happened?” (I was taking a one-armed, half court shot.) and “did you make it?” (No.) to become tiresome to her. After applying medieval torture techniques, the doctor, who was actually extremely kind, placed the joint back where it belonged and Ellie felt instantly better. The doctor said we’d have to follow-up with Ortho and asked if we had a doctor for that. Oh my, do we ever! Ellie is now my fifth child to enter the hallowed, and dare I say ‘hated’, halls of the orthopedist’s office. We also discovered that Anna probably shouldn’t go into nursing but would make a great traveling comedian to patients, as long as it doesn’t hurt them to laugh. Cow udder glove balloons, anyone? Wheelchair derby? How about an imitation nurse routine? She does it all.
Less than five hours ago (as of this writing), Caleb decided it was his turn for the annual Allan Meet-and-Greet With a Tree while sledding, earning himself a busted lip, scarred nose, bloody mouth, and lost baby tooth. Before I knew about any of this though, my single warning that something was wrong with a child was Danny’s voice coming through the garage door, saying, “You might be making another trip to the hospital,” before going right back to snow blowing the driveway. You might imagine the trepidation with which I creeped around the corner of the living room into the kitchen to see what awaited me.
James and Caleb had been outside, having their last bit of snow fun before bedtime when Caleb’s sled directed him to the nearest tree. I still haven’t straightened out why Caleb didn’t bail, what tree he hit, what he was thinking, did he only lose one tooth… but I did keep my cool when he entered the house with his face dripping blood.
Simultaneously to the sledding accident, Jake’s flight back to school for the spring semester was extremely delayed. We had been in constant communication with him, deciding whether to pick him back up from the airport and try again tomorrow, or have him take the late flight and hope he made his connection. Most of that doesn’t matter to anyone else, so the take-away here is that because we had to relinquish our time with our oldest, I was already emotionally wrecked before Caleb got hurt.
Which brings me back to my initial question. What do you do when your heart is faint? We are encouraged in II Thessalonians to not be weary in well-doing, but what about when you are? Hebrews 12:3 was read in meeting this morning, “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary and fainthearted,” and I was drawn to Lamentations 3: 30-32, “For the Lord will not cast off for ever: But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.” The fact that these verses were put on my heart on this day, of all days, is not lost on me, but one resists the knowing sometimes.
In no way am I trying to diminish any physical pain my children are experiencing. Between administering medication, watching tears stream down faces, and listening to the shouts and groans, I am well aware they are suffering. Our family does not have a monopoly on trials and tribulations, though it does seem like our particular circus has too many side shows right now. I don’t really have any answers either, but when I set aside my frustrations and fears, I can better lean into His strength and promises and see that the safety that is of the Lord is much more important than the physical needs we have on earth. How wonderful to be recipients of His multitudinous mercies. Caleb’s favorite bedtime song right now is “Safe Am I”*, and it seems to be most apropos, though I almost couldn’t sing through it tonight.
I’ll just end by saying Isaac is my favorite. 🙂
*Safe am I.
Safe am I,
In the hollow of His hand.
Sheltered o’er,
Sheltered o’er,
With His love forevermore.
No ill can harm me.
No foe alarm me.
For He keeps both day and night.
Safe am I.
Safe am I,
In the hollow of His hand.
When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the rock that is higher than I. Psalm 61:2
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