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September03, 2003 - Sand Dollar: Prayer at its Best >> |
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? ? ? THE CALL ? ? ? ? ? ? By Ginger Boda I couldn't sleep Friday night. As the wee hours of the morning passed, the knot in my stomach grew tighter. When Mark woke up at 3:30 am, to go to work, he questioned why I was still awake. I told him, "Something's wrong ... Jason hasn't called and he isn't home yet." Frustration and anger and worry were turning into prayers and pacing. What else could I do? He'd left his cell phone at work, and there was no way to find him. I knew it had been difficult for Jason to adjust living at home again, after being out on his own, for a while.? Even though he was only staying with us temporarily, Jason still knew that the house rules of curfew and accountability were necessary.? And living under the same roof made it more difficult to let go and not worry. ? It was now 4am, and Mark urged me to try and lay down and sleep. "Maybe he spent the night at a friend's house," At 8:30, Saturday morning, I got a call from the hospital telling me I should come as soon as I could. Jason had been in a car accident. My heart sank when the nurse mentioned a "bunch of stitches," and suggested I bring him some clothes ... a button-down shirt, shorts ... I interrupted her, barely able to speak, "What happened!" She was so vague and just said, "It would be good if you just came now, Ginger." I got directions and asked what time it was that he'd arrived at the hospital. She replied, "Around 3:30 this morning." ? Jason, having been up since four am on Friday morning for work, had gone to a friend's birthday party right afterward, and stayed later than he expected. He was tired, but figured he'd make it home. After 45 minutes on the freeway, he was relieved to finally reach the off ramp. He was fighting sleep. A block from our home, he dozed off for a moment, losing control of his car as it jumped the curb and rammed into one of the huge trees that line that curvy street. The impact threw him into the windshield and steering wheel, as the front of the car pushed back into his chest. He doesn't know how long he sat there, struggling to breathe, till he tried to get out of the driver's side. He was bleeding from the face and unable to see much, except that his left wrist was gushing. His feet were caught below, but somehow he was able to slip his shoes off, to move. The door wouldn't budge, and he noticed his right arm was wavy and displaced. Frantically, he crawled out the side window opening and fell onto the asphalt-street.? ? He lay there alone, in the dark, figuring that he was dying, when, he saw headlights. Somehow, he flagged down the car It was a policeman coming out of nowhere! Thank God! In a couple of minutes his bloody clothes were being ripped off and he was surrounded by emergency technicians assisting his wounds ... as his mangled car was towed away. Jason didn't remember much until they were stitching him up in the emergency room. It took 4 hours to sew him up. The cartilage in his nose was torn to pieces, his left eye, cheek and chin all stitched. A rib was broken, his left wrist severely lacerated, just missing the main artery by 1/8". His right wrist was 100% dislocated and fractured. A huge puncture to the right leg mid way down, next to the shinbone, was pretty deep. All in all he got about 70 stitches! When I got to the emergency room, I was NOT prepared. He looked awful! He had not seen a mirror, of course, and I had to stand there strong, as he searched my eyes for how bad it was. But at home I fell apart.? Days later, being able to "reflect" back, I stood in awe of the miracle that he was alive! He had been in the emergency room nearly 11 hours.? The blood in his urine indicated possible kidney problems, on top of everything else, but once it was determined that they were only bruised, we were able to bring him home. What followed was a tag team ministry, with his dad carrying him to the bathroom, his younger brother, Danny helping him dress, his baby sister, Alisha, putting ointment on his stitches each day, and everything in-between ... there was Mom. Two days later I had to get him back for a wound check at the hospital, and redressing. He saw an orthopedic specialist to recheck the arm and wrist. Then a cast replaced the fiberglass splint, once the swelling had subsided. There was nothing to do to help the cracked rib, except time and rest.? The facial stitches would come out in a week, and the body stitches, three days later.? ? ? ? ? In the meantime, we had to take care of the car. I cannot describe the emotion that flooded my heart as I pictured him trapped in that mangled piece of metal. "Oh, but by the grace of GOD!" The vehicle was totaled, and the video and photos we shot, were enough to take your breath away! As I gazed upon my firstborn son, the day after the accident, I could see the baby, the toddler, the child, the teen and the adult all in one fell swoop.? My throat, thick with emotion, gulped down feelings that words could not express.? Closing my eyes, as the tears fell again and again, I muttered prayers of thankfulness to God, for his mercy upon my son.? Thankfulness, that our arguments over the little things were not my last memory of our shared life.? Thankfulness, for sparing our family the heartache that could have been.? Thankfulness for every rise and fall of his chest, as he breathed quietly.? There he was, almost 25 years old, and it felt like he had just born.? I have thought about the frailty of life often, since losing my mother to Congestive Heart failure when I was sixteen, and my Dad to Cancer when I was nineteen.? I am not a stranger to death and heartache, but the thought of losing one of my children, was overwhelming.? This recent accident was much too close. Now, as the days pass by, the prayers from family and friends continue to cover us all.? Although it has been overwhelming at times, I see God's healing hand touching my son each morning.? The facial scars, amazingly, look like they will be minimal. He limps for now, but one day I pray he will leap for joy.? His pitching hand is strong, as the wound on his wrist is diminishing.? But his guitar sits idle, waiting for the time he can hold it close to him again, and strum the strings with melodies that lift the lowest spirit.? There is much to look forward to. But I often think about that deep impression I had of "knowing something was wrong" at three in the morning, and all I could do was pray.? To think that there I was, in the safety and quiet of my own home, while my son lay a block away fighting for his life in the street! It still rips my heart up.? If I had been told to get in the car and go around the corner, I would have found him.? But God's plan was for the policeman to come out of nowhere, like an angel of mercy, shining a light in a dark place.? My job was to pray fervently. As my clarity resumes and Jason's needs are met, I am better able to focus on the goodness of all. I believe there is a reason why things happen the way they do, and this trial we face, is no different. The reasons are not all known yet, but we're taking one day at a time.? I know Jason wishes he could turn back the hands on the clock, and make that call home, or leave earlier, or just not drive, knowing he was tired.? The consequences are huge, and could have been deadly. He's definitely aware of how blessed he is. There is a saying that comes to my mind again and again; "You are as happy as your saddest child." I feel that now, for the moment. But I can also hear my Mom telling me, "Ginger, this too, will pass." And I know it will. But my sincere prayer is that young people, everywhere, would understand how important it is to their parents that they check in.? That they drive safely, use wisdom, and that they might comprehend the worrying heart of a parent whose left to wonder where they are.? The call we want is from our child ??¦ not that dreaded call from a stranger. Ginger lives in Southern California with her husband, Mark, of 26 years, and three grown children, ages 24, 22, and 19. Although she works for a bank, she feels that her greatest investment has been into the lives of her family. Ginger enjoys gardening, reading, and collecting hearts. ? She's a contributor to various online publications, such as Heartwarmers, Petwarmers, Ripplemakers, and Write2theHeart. Ginger weaves faith, tradition and humor into her stories and poetry, striving to lift the spirit, and encourage the soul of the reader. ? Her favorite saying is "Make a memory every day." (C) 2003 by Ginger Boda |
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September03, 2003 - Sand Dollar: Prayer at its Best >> |
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