I know this is a blog about life and all the funny little things that can happen when living it. I hope you generally enjoy it. Yet, that’s the thing about life, its not always happy. 

We learned this summer about a little boy in our community who was gravely injured in a backyard accident doing nothing more than the exact same thing countless people do everyday without incident.  His injury is probably extremely rare. One in a million even.

 I can only imagine what his mother is going through. Reality and statistics must mean nothing when it’s your child. Your child is that one and suddenly that one is a very big and important number. 

When that door opens and your child – or his health - is standing on the other side and you are powerless to help it must be the most difficult thing in the world. How impossible to accept that you, who were born to be this child’s mother, cannot make it all better. 

I always imagine that parents of an ill or injured child were in my shoes not too long ago. Unless they were born ill, everyone who has a sick or injured child once had a healthy child which means they’re not very different from me or you at all. Their child was a “normal” happy and healthy kid who left shoes by the door and milk on the counter and lost toys between the sofa cushions. And then, just like that, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable – unspeakable - happens. Thus, they were all me at one point. Going about their daily life, enjoying themselves but maybe taken it all for granted too (at least I know I do). Then they – we - are struck with the powerful realization that life is so fragile and that the delicate balance of our health, happiness, and very existence is held together by a very fine thread which can snap so easily and without warning. That is when you realize that nothing in this life is so sacred that it cannot be taken away.  

Matters. I’ve heard so many tragic stories like this one lately that my heart hurts. I don’t mean to be melodramatic but it’s true. Life seems so unbearably fragile lately.  I am a pessimist. I tend to see the glass half-empty. I believe that carrying an umbrella will prevent the rain. I have to predict the worst in order that I might be pleasantly surprised if it does not come to pass. Maybe that’s the key…always expect it.  

I hope we can all take the time to appreciate the simple moments that really aren’t so simple at all. To remember that what matters is health and family and friends, and safe harbor.  

Not housing rates, the global market, the race for the presidency or the price of gasoline.

Tonight I’m thinking about all the children – and their parents – for whom fate turned on a dime. Or a lump, a bump, a bad break, or bad brakes. All the lives impacted in the moment when time – and reality –were forever altered. For all those whose lives are sharply divided by a distinct “before” and “after.” 

Today I want to hug my children a little harder, be kinder to my friends, and say an extra special prayer for all of us whose destinies and realities are waiting right around the corner. It says so much about what we have and what we think is important that what we think we cannot bear to lose and what we can survive are two different things. That what we think is untouchable and important really isn’t. That in the end the only thing that cannot be destroyed is our faith. It is the power to help us and carry us through. 

In truth, it is shameful how often I pray that I am not tested, even as I pray for those that are.

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Remember the post about the conversation I recently had with my mother in law? It ended with the promise of another story from the Prescott family archives. I am a woman of my word (unless I forget which happens quite often.) The following story is not for the weak of constitutions. It is a real life account of what can happen when one has an overactive uterus and a long overdue second honeymoon in progress. Brace yourself…

After twenty three years of marriage, ten children and several thousand trips to the doctor, church and the school pick up line, Dean and Julie desperately needed some alone time. Being a one income family of twelve, did not allow for the luxury of a vacation, much less one without kids. So, when the opportunity for a business trip presented itself, it was a dream come true for the frazzled couple. Even though their destination was only a few hours away, by plane, Julie was a tad reluctant to leave her children. Sure, the older ones were more than capable of tending to the brood. Sure, they had wonderful neighbors who promised to help keep an eye on the house. However, leaving a house full of kids unattended was a little unsettling. Despite her worries, Dean and Julie took the trip to Utah.

Julie had given birth to eight feisty boys and two girls, at this point in life. The boys were notorious for performing dangerous stunts and getting into all kids of mischief. Julie had visited the emergency room so many times, that they practically knew the Prescott family by name. It was no surprise when one of the boys, fell out of a tall palm tree in the front yard, and suffered a broken arm and concussion. In fact, this particular child was such a jokester, that Julie playfully kicked him and laughed as he lay on the sidewalk. She was so used to falling prey to his tricks, that she never imagined that he was actually hurt. It was this type of thing that lay in the back of Julie’s mind as she unpacked her suitcase at the hotel. Thoughts of worst case scenarios flooded the unsettled mother’s mind. Finally, after much persuading from Dean, she breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself to relax. As all of you parents know, those words written in a parenting story, always mean trouble…

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