live-simply-saturday3It was a Wednesday, just like all the others — gather studies, pack a lunch and rush out the door. Frantic, scattered, yet focused on getting into the car and zooming to our homeschooling group.

Midafternoon was a birthday party for one of the boys and all the boys ages 8-15 were invited — a total of five. Pizza, cake, and a sleepover!

A beautiful day broke through the often grey November weather pattern. The boys, full of energy and excitement were playing some made-up game of hiding and shooting. Practicing their aim, their agility, their skill, and their heroic abilities. Was it a battle? An invasion? A secret mission? Were the “bad guys” after them? Who was winning?

The game became unimportant very quickly. Suddenly, without warning, a mighty young warrior was pinned under a 300 pound (est.) headstone. Thankfully a strong, quick thinking, 17 year old pulled the stone off and another brave young man pulled the boy clear from its crushing weight.

Frustrated that my son had forgotten his sleepingbag and pillow; I arrive at the birthday boy’s house amidst the fear and terror of a horrible accident unfolding. Filled with a mix of relief and pain — I realized my son was not the one hurt but the son of a good friend. I began swirling in a time warp — time stood still as I absorbed the details and tried to control my own rising fear. One of those times when you think the ambulance would never arrive yet, probably only precious minutes had elapsed.

It was a heart wrenching scene, the mother of the birthday boy kneeling in the distance beside a very still body — thankfully, word had reached us at the house that all extremeties were moving and he was conscious.

Inside the house, laying on the couch, slumped in chairs, nervously pacing were the close friends and the little brother of the injured boy. The mighty, fearless warriors who only minutes earlier were winning the battle and fighting off evil; were suddenly scared and frightened little boys as the traumatic scene played over and over in their minds. From the window those who were tall enough watched the ambulance speed off to Children’s Hospital.

48 hours later after some scarry unknown moments, we now know that all is well. The boy will be in a wheel chair for a few weeks while the fractured pelvis heals and his broken hand is in a cast. He will be released from the hospital later today!

BUT Oh My! How God is with us! Praise God  . . .

. . . our son forgot his sleeping bag & pillow putting me at the scene to comfort those boys!
. . . the 17 year old could pull the stone off of the boy! 
. . . the injuries were so much less than what they could have been!
. . . two pastors in the community who stayed with the family.
. . . the men who offered their services and skills for whatever the family needed.
. . . two young men who built the ramp for the home in just a few hours!
. . . the friend who helped the dad turn the homeschool room into a bedroom!
. . . the friend who cleaned up the house, and helped with other details of the family!
. . . the phone awakened me at 3a.m. to soothe the fears of the mom who hit her emotional wall!
. . . an army of women poised and ready for their meal assignments.

It was like watching the Body of Christ come to life — each part has a name and a face and they are all working selflessly & fluidly together as a unit.

Tragedy washed by the blood of Christ binds the small band of boys and cements all our lives together.

To God be the Glory.