Yesterday Reuben took a really nasty fall. The kind where I heard his head hit the floor and his life flashed before my eyes. I rushed to him, cradled him in my arms and eventually dried tears. He ended up being perfectly wonderfully okay, but in the moment I was at defcon one, my fight or flight mode raging.
One of the hardest things for me to accept as a mother is that I can't protect my child. His life is not in my hands. I am not promised tomorrow. I can't imagine anything ever happening to him, but at times, like yesterday, where he is bleeding and crying on me and I'm holding him in my arms wishing I could take away his pain--I feel the finite reality of death. One day he will die. It could be soon. I would die for him, only I don't have that option. God controls life or death, even if I don't want to accept it.
Life is fragile, even if we aren't reminded of it often. God is good, and I do believe he knows the hour of my death and Reuben's too. I know I can trust him. But I also know that my human heart wants no pain to come to my child. I don't think I'll ever really stop worrying about his health and safety, but I am glad to be a child of God and know and trust Him. I just wish the future was not so uncertain.
Seeing the reality of death really helps me put my petty human desires in perspective. Do I really need to argue about this-or-that with my husband? Should I let the crumbs on the floor ruin my good mood? I want to create good memories for myself and my family--but my ultimate goal should be to serve God in everything, not serve myself. Yet daily I serve myself. If Reuben were to be taken from me tomorrow, I wouldn't get those days back, I wouldn't get another chance.
I suppose what I am saying is that I struggle just like everyone else to see the real shape of the world in regards to my paltry existence. I often place too much stock on how I look or what I have then growing the relationships around me. I forget to invest in my walk with God and instead invest in things like new clothes and pretty yarn.
Moments of clarity are rare, so I want to seize this one while it is still fresh in my mind. God is good. I am human. I have no choice but to trust him with not only my life, but the life of my children as well.
Blog brought to you by a sleepless night of watching Reuben to make sure his head injury didn't require a hospital visit. (It didn't) (I'm tired).
