A Prayer for Dignity and Grace

I will never be able to explain the need I had to get to church on New Year's Day.  I was on a mission to get my praise on.

I typically go to early church.  But today was different.  I looked at the weather and decided to go running first.  So off I went.

As luck would have it, I ran into my friend.  Our run became a walk/run.  We discussed "hard hearts" and anger and moving forward.  We talk about the joyless Christmas and she asked me if I wanted to go further.

"No, I have to get to church."  Seriously, you would have thought I was the preacher.

I was on a mission.  Church, then the daunting chore of taking everything out our master bedroom closet after 18 years, purging and then painting it, and then reassembling along with the Steelers and pork and sauerkraut. 

At church, I looked over at a person who I knew had been going through a rough time.  During our walk/run, my friend told me all the anger was gone for this person.

I looked this person and thought "do I have an angry heart?  Is this why it was so hard to get into the spirit this year?  I need to kick my hard heart to the curb.

When the opportunity came to kneel and pray, I picked the Noah's ark pillow and I prayed.

After church, I pulled into the driveway and the first thing I see is Franklin smoking.

"Are you kidding me, What the hell, you didn't even make it till 1pm?"

He laughed and came over to me and asked, "how was church, did you pray?"

"yes, I did kind of pray, actually, it was more like a shout out".

"Tell me".

"I said, God, hey, whatever you are going to throw at me this year, bring it, just let me handle it with dignity and grace.  And make my heart soft again.  Throw something my way to make it love more.  And about my kids, I always ask you God to look out for my oldest son, but this year, please spread the love and watch over all of them.  They all need it.  I trust your plan for them.  But God just give me dignity and grace."

My husband stood there looking at me like he had been hit with a stun gun. 

And softly he said, "about that dignity and grace...I just hung up with a trauma room doctor.  The "button" is in ICU.  All I know is he was shot twice."

And bam."..bring on the dignity and grace.

I have always said for years that I would get the "call".  My young spirited son was "balls to the wall" forever.  "If you are going to be a bear, be a grizzly."  His energy and his fearless approach to life made him a candidate for "the call."  And now here it was.

"Is he alive?"

"For now, they will call back in two hours. "

Two hours, no info, the call and he is alive.  Alive.  We get the call and he is alive. 

But no details.  I swear I felt every second that went by inside of me.

We decided stay calm and assured.  We cannot tell the kids anything.  And we didn't.  We went ahead and cleaned the closet.  And we painted.  And waited.

A call came.  The "button" was good and more details came out.

And finally the call came from the doctor late at night.  "He is a trooper."

"Do we need to make funeral arrangements?"  No, we didn't.
"Do I need to come out there, I don't sit well, if there is going to be sitting, I won't do well"

"There will be a lot of sitting.  I might wait.  When you do come, you most likely will need to take quite a few days off, leave of absence, you will need time.  There are several spinal cord injuries....." 

I have no idea what followed after that.  I don't know what the medical terms mean.  We asked, "is the cord severed?"

"No"  (great, that is great.  I mean doesn't the cord have to be severed to cause horrible damage?)

"But that doesn't matter."  And a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo we asked, "do we need to build a ramp?"

"I don't know." 

I started this blog five years ago when I couldn't handle my oldest son, my pride and joy, my cute as a "button" teen age son and his obsession with drugs and out of control teenage behavior that never seemed to end. 

And now, here he was, moving forward, working, trying, pretty much drug free and proud of his accomplishments and he was making his way.

Like most young couples, he and his girlfriend went out with another couple for New Year's Eve.  They were walking back to their car, in the cold Denver night when they walked past a group of adults and a little boy.

Words were exchanged.  Pretty sure there were some firetruck words and then a walk on by.

As the "button" walked off, one of the guys shot him.  Twice.  In the back, above the waist.  One of the bullets left the "button" and entered the little ten year old.  In a bizarre twist, the ten year old was the shooters son.

Our medical ignorance prevented us from understanding that the paralysis started at the neck and independent breathing was absent.

The second miracle came.  He was alive and after a few days, he could breathe independently and his hands and fingers had feelings.

For now, the "button" will be confined to a wheelchair.  And this is a gift.  He is alive.  He hasn't lost his gift of gab.  He is a grown man with his own ideas and a path he wants to travel.

He will travel.  He is strong, a bit scared, stunned and strong.  He may never understand how lucky he is that he has use of his hands and fingers and can breathe independently.

It so funny, you never really appreciate electricity until you do not have electricity. 

Today, when I was leaving the grocery store, I walked past six wheelchairs, three different types.  I can honestly say, as long as I have been shopping there, I have never noticed them.  Today I did.

So, here we go.  Yes, there is a ton of irony in this story.  It has slapped us in the face.

We are going forward with open hearts.  We are going to learn more than we already have and we are going to grow.  Pretty sure we will argue and get frustrated.  Shed some tears, get angry and just wonder "why me?".

I will continue to celebrate life and new beginnings.  Not sure if my son will see it this way in the beginning but I understand.

And, I am pretty sure I will have to look toward the sky with closed eyes and ask for more dignity and grace. Amen.