There are many days that I don't manage to squeeze in a morning Bible study and prayer time. Yesterday was one of those mornings. I woke up and remembered that we had a pool party to get to and that I hadn't set an alarm to allow for both a quiet time AND getting everyone to the party on time. We got to the pool party on time. My four year old almost died in one of the pools.
We had spent hours at the party with everyone having a good time. I'd decided we needed to leave soon, but I was letting my girls enjoy it a little bit longer. My older 2 were playing in and near a pool in front of me, and my youngest was playing in a kiddie pool behind me. I don't remember exactly what the distraction was from that moment to the next. Maybe I was helping another kid with something. Maybe I was daydreaming. Maybe I was trying to determine how much longer I was going to let them stay. Maybe I was trying to figure out if we had everything ready to go. Whatever it was, when I looked back up for a headcount of my children, I could only see one of them. My oldest and youngest was out of view. I was guessing they'd gone to the pool that I had recently declared off limits for the duration of the party because I couldn't see it from where I was sitting. I decided to go check. I hope someday I will forget what I saw. Several kids were in that pool. An adult was walking around it watching. My oldest was happily floating in the pool, and my youngest was drowning. She was completely submerged, struggling to get her face back to the surface of the water. She was close to treading water but her face was just below the surface and it was purple.
I got to her somehow. I'm assuming I took the stairs in front of me. I scooped her up and out of the water. She wasn't making any sounds. I rushed to a step where I could sit, flip her on her tummy, and hit her back. In a while, she finally started to cough out water. Once she was done coughing, I grabbed her up, yelled for my other 2 to come, started grabbing up my purse and pool bag and rushed to the van with some help from another mother nearby. The adrenaline was starting to subside a bit before I had completely gotten out of the neighborhood I was in. I used the moment of tears coming to my eyes to stop and call my husband. The next hour was filled with a flurry of calling nurse lines, checking Noelle's color and various abilities, trying to figure out where to take her, and finally getting her checked in to Children's Hospital. As soon as I wasn't the one responsible for the next step, I'd start crying. The "what ifs" started to flood through me. After a couple hours at the hospital for observation, a chest x-ray, and a few other simple checks, my youngest was discharged from the hospital and declared to be very fortunate. She was literally singing and dancing again by then, but my mind has been a battleground ever since.
I opted for distractions as much as possible last night. I needed rest. I couldn't fight back yet. I watched TV and every hour or 2 checked on my sleeping babies to make sure they were all still breathing. Eventually though I knew I needed to turn off the distractions and try to sleep. When I closed my eyes, I could see her purple face in the pool again. In another flash, I could see what the scene would have looked like if I'd gotten there 30 seconds later. I couldn't handle it. I was back out of bed, in the living room, looking around desperately for a box of tissues. I was too tired to think straight, but I knew what I needed to NOT be thinking about. I prayed that those images wouldn't come to me as I slept. I tried to think of something true. My baby was alive and sleeping. Eventually, I went back to bed and fell asleep myself. Thankfully, I didn't remember any dreams at all when I awoke to my youngest coming in our room. I scooped her up and cuddled her in bed for a while, thankful that I could do that. Once she was ready to be done with cuddling in bed, I set up a show for her and her sisters to watch so that I could try to get just a smidge more sleep. When I finally awoke for good for the day, I knew what needed to be done. I needed to have some quiet time with God. I considered intentionally skipping it though. What could I say to God? Was I ready to really talk to Him about what had just happened? I was grateful that she had been saved, obviously, but I was mad that it had happened at all. Did I even have a right to be mad at Him though? She was safe. Other children weren't. Why didn't He save them too? Could I believe that He had saved her and not saved others? Could I praise Him? Could I rail against Him? What would He tell me in His Word for today? Was I ready to hear it?
This wasn't the first time I'd come to God with mixed feelings at best. It also wouldn't have been the first time that I'd skipped some morning time with Him. I knew I needed Him to not let some images, thoughts, and fears overtake me today though. I knew He could handle my anger and certainly my fears, so I opened up His Word and prayed that I'd hear what He wanted to share with me today. I opened up to where I was reading in John and read through chapter 16. The Spirit is my Counselor. He guides me into truth. God knew where my baby was. God knew what she needed. When she asked me later, "Mama, did you hear me calling for you?" My answer had to be "no," but He had heard her. He knew. I don't know why any child has to die, tragic accident or not. The truth for today though is that my child lives. That's the truth that comes to me when I desperately need to know the truth and be restored to peace. She not only lives but she's not even afraid. She knows her mama came for her, and she's already singing songs about pool parties, pretending her toy is going swimming, and enthusiastically sprinting for bathtime.
I would have stopped reading there but the next section was titled "The Disciples Grief Will Turn to Joy." I wanted that for myself, so I read on. I read about asking and receiving in Jesus' name. I didn't pray yesterday during a set quiet time, but I had prayed on behalf of my children and that I would parent out of love abounding in knowledge and depth of insight many, many times before. I was so thankful to have received, but I also still struggled knowing that many mothers had prayed and lost their children. I could have been one of them. I can't even explain why verses 26 and 27 brought the tears. "In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God." God, the Father, loves me. God hears my prayers in love, out of love, from love. He loves me, the woman who doesn't always come before Him each morning, the woman who lost sight of her baby and nearly lost her for good, the woman who isn't sure what to do with a God who would allow her baby to be saved but not all of them. He loves me, the hot mess that I am, bursting into tears multiple times a day still, not sure what exactly to even say to Him in the midst of all this. It doesn't matter though because He loves me.
We had spent hours at the party with everyone having a good time. I'd decided we needed to leave soon, but I was letting my girls enjoy it a little bit longer. My older 2 were playing in and near a pool in front of me, and my youngest was playing in a kiddie pool behind me. I don't remember exactly what the distraction was from that moment to the next. Maybe I was helping another kid with something. Maybe I was daydreaming. Maybe I was trying to determine how much longer I was going to let them stay. Maybe I was trying to figure out if we had everything ready to go. Whatever it was, when I looked back up for a headcount of my children, I could only see one of them. My oldest and youngest was out of view. I was guessing they'd gone to the pool that I had recently declared off limits for the duration of the party because I couldn't see it from where I was sitting. I decided to go check. I hope someday I will forget what I saw. Several kids were in that pool. An adult was walking around it watching. My oldest was happily floating in the pool, and my youngest was drowning. She was completely submerged, struggling to get her face back to the surface of the water. She was close to treading water but her face was just below the surface and it was purple.
I got to her somehow. I'm assuming I took the stairs in front of me. I scooped her up and out of the water. She wasn't making any sounds. I rushed to a step where I could sit, flip her on her tummy, and hit her back. In a while, she finally started to cough out water. Once she was done coughing, I grabbed her up, yelled for my other 2 to come, started grabbing up my purse and pool bag and rushed to the van with some help from another mother nearby. The adrenaline was starting to subside a bit before I had completely gotten out of the neighborhood I was in. I used the moment of tears coming to my eyes to stop and call my husband. The next hour was filled with a flurry of calling nurse lines, checking Noelle's color and various abilities, trying to figure out where to take her, and finally getting her checked in to Children's Hospital. As soon as I wasn't the one responsible for the next step, I'd start crying. The "what ifs" started to flood through me. After a couple hours at the hospital for observation, a chest x-ray, and a few other simple checks, my youngest was discharged from the hospital and declared to be very fortunate. She was literally singing and dancing again by then, but my mind has been a battleground ever since.
I opted for distractions as much as possible last night. I needed rest. I couldn't fight back yet. I watched TV and every hour or 2 checked on my sleeping babies to make sure they were all still breathing. Eventually though I knew I needed to turn off the distractions and try to sleep. When I closed my eyes, I could see her purple face in the pool again. In another flash, I could see what the scene would have looked like if I'd gotten there 30 seconds later. I couldn't handle it. I was back out of bed, in the living room, looking around desperately for a box of tissues. I was too tired to think straight, but I knew what I needed to NOT be thinking about. I prayed that those images wouldn't come to me as I slept. I tried to think of something true. My baby was alive and sleeping. Eventually, I went back to bed and fell asleep myself. Thankfully, I didn't remember any dreams at all when I awoke to my youngest coming in our room. I scooped her up and cuddled her in bed for a while, thankful that I could do that. Once she was ready to be done with cuddling in bed, I set up a show for her and her sisters to watch so that I could try to get just a smidge more sleep. When I finally awoke for good for the day, I knew what needed to be done. I needed to have some quiet time with God. I considered intentionally skipping it though. What could I say to God? Was I ready to really talk to Him about what had just happened? I was grateful that she had been saved, obviously, but I was mad that it had happened at all. Did I even have a right to be mad at Him though? She was safe. Other children weren't. Why didn't He save them too? Could I believe that He had saved her and not saved others? Could I praise Him? Could I rail against Him? What would He tell me in His Word for today? Was I ready to hear it?
This wasn't the first time I'd come to God with mixed feelings at best. It also wouldn't have been the first time that I'd skipped some morning time with Him. I knew I needed Him to not let some images, thoughts, and fears overtake me today though. I knew He could handle my anger and certainly my fears, so I opened up His Word and prayed that I'd hear what He wanted to share with me today. I opened up to where I was reading in John and read through chapter 16. The Spirit is my Counselor. He guides me into truth. God knew where my baby was. God knew what she needed. When she asked me later, "Mama, did you hear me calling for you?" My answer had to be "no," but He had heard her. He knew. I don't know why any child has to die, tragic accident or not. The truth for today though is that my child lives. That's the truth that comes to me when I desperately need to know the truth and be restored to peace. She not only lives but she's not even afraid. She knows her mama came for her, and she's already singing songs about pool parties, pretending her toy is going swimming, and enthusiastically sprinting for bathtime.
I would have stopped reading there but the next section was titled "The Disciples Grief Will Turn to Joy." I wanted that for myself, so I read on. I read about asking and receiving in Jesus' name. I didn't pray yesterday during a set quiet time, but I had prayed on behalf of my children and that I would parent out of love abounding in knowledge and depth of insight many, many times before. I was so thankful to have received, but I also still struggled knowing that many mothers had prayed and lost their children. I could have been one of them. I can't even explain why verses 26 and 27 brought the tears. "In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God." God, the Father, loves me. God hears my prayers in love, out of love, from love. He loves me, the woman who doesn't always come before Him each morning, the woman who lost sight of her baby and nearly lost her for good, the woman who isn't sure what to do with a God who would allow her baby to be saved but not all of them. He loves me, the hot mess that I am, bursting into tears multiple times a day still, not sure what exactly to even say to Him in the midst of all this. It doesn't matter though because He loves me.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)I'm going to keep coming to Him, day after day, heartbreak after heartbreak, fear after fear, joy after joy because I believe that Jesus came from God and that I have hope in Him. The Spirit will lead me into all truth. Whatever truth I need to be reminded of that day, the Spirit can lead me into that. Whatever prayer I say or don't even know how to verbalize, God loves me and hears me and my heart's cry. This world, this life, is so full of trouble. My heart can ache from the troubles, but I can still have victory in Jesus. He has overcome. My hope is and ever will be in Him.
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