To Trust or Not To Trust

This accident hit home...literally... and you find yourself questioning all that you believe in. I landed on my knees because I fell there. It was not my first reaction, as I thought it would be. I've believed in God my entire life. I've heard messages and sermons that stirred my faith. I've had spiritual experiences that made me feel like I was one more level away from receiving God's home phone number. You and I?...we could talk for hours about His character, mercy and grace.

But when your child is lying seriously wounded on the side of the road, when your eyes witness their injuries and pain, when your ears can hear their screams and moans, when every fiber in your being wants to do something and the emergency medical team tells you to 'move away' along with all the other on lookers, you want to scream, "He's My Son!"

I buried my face into a stranger, I turned around and whomever was there got my fists clutching the front of their shirt and my hot sobbing breath into their chest.

In that moment Mother's...that child is NO LONGER yours, you feel it, you know it, it is real and you are not important. In that moment...you are insignificant, no more special than anyone else standing around. You can't touch your child, you can't bring them comfort, all you are giving them, in that moment...is the sound of their Mother's voice, the voice that they know so well, is loudly sobbing their name. And somewhere in between my sobs I said another name too, "God, oh my God!" and I hope with all my being, that Mark heard me say the name of God along with his.

Sitting in a lowly lit surgery waiting room is hell. It is hell because here, in the uncomfortable silence, your mind begins to try to understand and make some kind of sense to all of this and there is no sense to be found. Your physical body starts to show signs of shock. You begin to shiver from deep within, the air feels cold and thick. Breathing becomes difficult and all activity seems to be in slow motion. People around you say things to you and you shake your head yes, like you understand them, but you don't. You run scenarios in your head...(if I had only invited him for dinner, if he had drove home with someone else, if I could just talk to him now.....)

Eventually, between the shock and the waiting...you have 'the conversation' with God. "Why? Why him? What did he do? What am I supposed to do? Where were You God! Why didn't You protect him? Where are YOU in all of this NOW?" and you fight with Him. You feel yourself blame Him and at the same second that you are placing blame on God, He is asking you to trust Him...to trust Him?...to trust Him...and He requires no answer.

Why doesn't He require an answer? Because He knows you, that right at that moment you are scared and angry, feeling helpless and lost. How can you blame Him and also ask for His help at the same time? I couldn't have any conversations with Him, at that moment.

I felt very human, right then, I was all mother. I wasn't a wife or a daughter, I wasn't a sister or a friend...I was all mother, every part of me. I closed my eyes and Marks life flashed itself through my mind. I saw the newborn, the 2 year old with cake all over his face and hands, I saw him riding his bike, playing basket ball and opening presents. I saw him driving his first car, graduate from high school and the look on his face just 6 hours ago when he said good bye to me and told me that he loved me. I said it too. In that moment, I thought that those could have been our last words to each other.

No, God did not require an answer from me then, He is a gentlemen and He let me be a mother. He let me see and feel my son's life flowing through me and He told me then, when I was ready to hear it, He told me to trust...

and I did.