A Spring of Joy

The children love to climb the ladder to our attic and explore. I needed a few things so I asked for their help, happy to incude them in our daily tasks. The boys were up top grabbing the items we needed and handing them down to me. Bella-girl stood on the ladder with me behind her holding her so she wouldn’t fall. She began climbing down, and one of the boys began moving things back into place, finishing their job and not seeing what was coming…

“Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!” I heard the other boy shouting, insistently, almost fearfully.

It was too late.

Looking up, I saw it rolling. A barbell with weights on it. At least 20 pounds of metal and bolts and pain falling towards us, right on top of her.

Then I heard her screams as I pinned the weight beside me with my bad arm (I don’t know how) to the back of the ladder.

The boys’ faces, white, peered from the attic hole and Bella’s wails of “Oh, it burns! It BURNS!” pierced. I grabbed her with my left arm, the weight with my right, and climbed down the ladder, trying to soothe her screams.

“Is there blood?” she asked through sobs. I was terrified to see what had happened.

I looked.

No.

In fact.

There was nothing.

From a human standpoint, I have no idea how she was uninjured.

The weight must have only grazed her lip.

I don’t know how.

But I do know how.

It was God’s protection over my child.

And it was protection over the heart of a little boy who didn’t see the weight he accidentally knocked out… over the heart of another boy who saw it coming but couldn’t stop it… over the heart and body of a little girl who could have been horribly injured.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” she kept saying it over and over, like a mantra. She just needed me close. Then she finally said, “If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was, dear girl. I was.”

The illusion of control, as my sweet friend, Beth, says…

I like to think I have it.

I don’t. And it’s moments like these in our ordinary days that remind me I am not in control of anything.

But He is.

And He spared my girl today. He spared all of us.

It’s the daily reminder I need. That He is in control. He is guarding and protecting us.

Honestly, I shook for at least an hour after this happened. I hyper-ventilated in the bathroom and called Brian to talk me down from a panic attack.

What might have been attacks me and plagues me still…

As I look back over my life, there is so much pain, so many falls, and I find myself crying, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” like a mantra. I need Him close, “If YOU hadn’t been there…”

I hear His whispered reply…

“But, I am, dear girl. I am.”

The sky was beautiful this morning… a blanket of white clouds over colored mountains with golden rays peeping through every now and then. It was a breathtaking drive to school and the children and I “oohed” and “ahhed” the entire way. Well, maybe not the entire way, because we were running late and every now and then we’d stop to fret about the lights being red or the guy driving 15 mph below the speed limit. But most of the way we were spellbound by the beauty around us.

I kept reminding my Ash when he’d fuss about the time that God was in control of those traffic lights and He knew we’d get behind slow vehicles, and it was all going to be okay. Perhaps He was protecting us from a car accident by allowing us to run late.

I think I was preaching to myself more than to my son though. I was flustered and frustrated because we were late, yes, but more because we were late because I forgot that I. was. supposed. to. drive. them. today.

Bri usually takes the kids to school, but he had an early meeting this morning so I was the driver. Only at 7:45 I was still sitting in my jammies and snuggling my Bella-girl waiting for Bri to come downstairs and wondering what was taking him so long. Then it hit me.

I forgot.

We ran around like crazy fools… well, I was the only one running (and I think I pulled a hamstring taking the stairs three at a time). And Bear is home sick again today, so he just wrapped up in a blanket and curled up in our van and was brave and strong even though it was freezing cold and his head and throat hurt so badly.

We knew we’d be late.

I knew it was going to be fine.

It wasn’t so much that we were late (although I LOATHE being late for anything important), it was why we were late that bothered me.

Because. I. forgot.

How could I forget when Bri had just told me less than 12 hours before?

Honestly, y’all, I know you can say to me, “We all have days like this.” or “It’s just part of being human.” or “It’s ok.”

And yes, I agree, especially with the whole being human part, because I need to let myself be human and not think I’m superwoman. But the frustrating part for me is that this is part of the new normal for us.

Me not remembering things.

I’ve struggled with chemo brain for over 3 years now, and I know it’s part of this whole cancer battle. I know it can last for 10 years or more. So I can tell myself all that, but the problem is it’s been exacerbated by this last surgery. It’s like my brain relapsed and hasn’t recovered yet.

So I battle it. Every day.

Brian sometimes looks at me like I’ve grown four heads and says, “Um, we just talked about that 5 minutes ago.” And I get sad and frustrated and discouraged, and I struggle to accept it as part of my life.

But then I look around. Deep breaths.

And I remember…

I remember how beautiful the clouds were this morning and how Asher prayed for our day and our friends who are hurting while I drove. I remember how Brian’s kiss good night last night felt and how Bella’s arms wrapped around me warmed my heart this morning. I remember the gentle words of my sick Bear, “Mommy, I like spending quiet mornings with you.”

And I remember the truth I read this morning, that “It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he causes me to stand on the heights. He trains my hands for battle; my arms can bend a bow of bronze.” And I remember that God gives me strength to face the challenges of each day… that is His promise. He doesn’t promise to eliminate the challenges, but He is with me in them.

Yes, I remember.

I remember the important things.

Thank you, Lord, for late mornings and for beautiful skies and for warm hearts and warm hugs. Thank you for snuggly boys and sweet words, for my hubby’s job and early meetings and Your provision. And thank you that I can never forget your goodness, because it surrounds us every moment.