A Pierced Heart

The hardest part about being a mother has nothing to do with diapers or sleep deprivation, but rather that now your heart now walks around on the outside of you, vulnerable. There are many things in this world that a mother, even the best, most well-intentioned mother cannot protect her children from. And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.

One thing I love about our new neighborhood is that the kids all get together and play in the yard across the street. They aren't limited to that one yard, though. There is so little traffic on our street that they often take their games into the road, throwing balls, riding bikes, playing chase. I love that we have the sound of rambunctious youth.

Yesterday the neighbor boys were playing with their bikes outside as they often do. They were carrying on as usual, but there was a silence and then a shouting that wasn't usual. There was a seriousness in the voice, a sound of desperation. I opened the window to make out what they were saying. SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP! CALL 9-1-1! I rushed downstairs; Erik grabbed the phone. PLEASE CALL AN AMBULANCE! The cries were coming from the boy's father, whose sounds of anguish I cannot shake from my head. We rushed outside to see the neighbor hovering over his son, who was lying flat on the street unconscious after flipping his bike. Soon, many neighbors had rushed to their lawns each with a phone dialing the emergency squad.

The boy was bleeding, began shaking, and threw up violently. His father did all the right things, called for help, stabilized his neck, removed anything obstructing his airways, talked sweetly to him. He acted heroically.

We felt helpless, as we watched this family in agony over their son and waited for help to arrive. His mother was screaming in the inconsolable voice of Ramah. Her very own flesh and blood lay on the street unresponsive. She could not protect him, she could not help. Her pain was palpable. Erik and I prayed. I moistened a towel and brought it to the boy's father so that he could wipe his face clean.

It felt like forever for the ambulance to arrive. Forever to me, whose child wasn't lying unconscious in the street. He was now conscious and moving. The emergency team quickly loaded him into the ambulance and they sped away with sirens blaring. Within a moment, a deep and penetrating silence filled the neighborhood. We all returned to our homes, stunned.

I pray to God that this boy is able to fully recover and that God replace the family's grief and worry with peace that surpasses all understanding.

UPDATE: We just talked with the family and the boy who had the accident is just fine! Well, he's really scratched up and isn't allowed to do ANYTHING for at least a month, but nothing is broken and no brain damage. PRAISE THE LORD!