11pm . . . 2:12am . . . 4:31am . . . 5:17am . . . Okay. I’m up.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m HIGHLY uncomfortable with uncertainty, which is really crazy because having children and just living life in general is a sure guarantee for craziness at some point.
2 weeks ago my 5-year-old was playing around with his older brother. He lost his footing and fell head first onto the corner of a bench in their playroom. Immediately he had a giant gumball sized knot (looked like a basketball to me) swell up between the bridge of his nose and his eyebrow. He screamed. I cried. My kids stared. Thankfully, my husband intervened and got some ice to reduce the swelling. It worked. By the next day the gumball was considerably smaller, but it was at least 7 days before he no longer looked like some strange kid living in our home.
Why am I not used to this by now? We have a house full of boys. They wrestle. They fall off of things. They run around 24 hours a day whether inside or out. They climb trees, higher. . .higher . . .no, let’s go just high enough so we’d only break a bone if we fell, but nothing too serious. Everyday is truly an adventure in” let’s see if we can cause mom’s heart to drop just one more time”. I know they don’t really think this way, but from where I’m sitting, that’s what it feels like.
So, last week when my son was napping, I noticed a slightly raised area near his brow where he’d fallen, so I ran my finger lightly across the area to check it. Was that a small piece of bone protruding? Seriously? Of course I shift into doctor mode. I’m on the internet looking up pics of facial anatomy. I’m looking at him and then back at the picture. Sinuses? No cartilage. Okay, no, bone. ACK!!!! I couldn’t tell. So, I go grab my husband and make him come into the room and look at our son. “What is that? “I ask pointing toward his face, already fidgeting around because I’m keenly aware of uncertainty’s presence in the room. My husband shrugs his shoulders, leans in closer and rubs his finger across the protrusion. “I’m not sure what that is, but he’ll be fine”.
Umm. That’s not the answer I was looking for. You’re a guy, a boy, a male. Tell me that you did the exact same thing when you were his age and that you know with every ounce of certainty in your body that he is perfectly fine.
So then I call my dad. Another guy, boy, a male.
“Hey Dad, there’s this protrusion thing just under the skin of his eye. What do you think it is?”
“Oh, it’s probably just a small piece of cartilage floating around”
“Huh?? What? Um. That doesn’t make me feel any better. “Cartilage floating around? What does that mean?”
“Well, let me take a look at it tomorrow and I’ll let you know”. I have to wait another day? The suspense is killing me here.
So, the next day Grandpa Doc (He’s not really a doctor. He just plays one on TV. Ha! Ha!) examines the area and determines a doctors visit is probably in order. (Second and third opinions before the doctor’s opinion. Truly a village effort here, my friends.)
So, that’s where I am right now. 5am on Monday morning, typing some very raw (though slightly comical as I look back) feelings about motherhood, uncertainty, and just wishing for once that life didn’t have so many bumps, twists and turns. I’ll be taking my son to the doctor in a couple of hours which I’m not looking forward to. X-rays are sure to be on the menu today. Meanwhile, our little patient, climbed into our bed during the night and is now snuggled comfortably between my husband and me. It’s amazing how our children are able to rest in uncertainty. They generally don’t worry like we do. Their faith is in tact. I’m pretty sure that’s why JESUS said that we are to be like little children. They get it.
My prayer this morning was this:
FATHER, I trust you with all of my heart, but today, I’m not feeling like that’s very much. I’m trusting YOU to take the little that I have to give today and turn it into something great. Help me to walk in uncertainty and remember that YOU have it all under control.
Here’s hoping you’ll have the strength to look uncertainty in the eyes today without flinching!
Keep doin’ what you love, my friends!
UPDATE: x-rays were NOT required. Whew! The doctor said it was calcified scar tissue from the original injury that should disappear within a month or two. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and encouraging emails and support. Big hugs!!!