Wake Up Call




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" October 7, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ Being a parent is a full time job. There is no quitting. There is no retirement. Even after they are old enough to leave home, you still feel joy or frustration at the happenings in their lives. ------------------------------------------------------------ Wake Up 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 got up Saturday, 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. Living under the same roof made it more difficult to let go and not worry. It was now 4 am, and Mark urged me to try and lie 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 to come as soon as I could. There'd been a car accident. My heart sank when the nurse mentioned a "bunch of stitches," and suggested I bring Jason 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. "Around 3:30 this morning," she replied. Jason had stayed at his friend's birthday party later than he planned. He was tired, after being up since 4 am for work Friday, but figured he'd make it home. After 45 minutes on the freeway, fighting fatigue, he was relieved to finally reach the off ramp. 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, assuming he was dying, when, he saw headlights. 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 couldn't remember much more until he was in the emergency room. It took 4 hours to sew him up. The cartilage in his nose was torn badly, 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 inch. His right wrist was 100% dislocated and fractured. A puncture next to his right shinbone was pretty deep. He received about 70 stitches in all! When I got to the emergency room, I was NOT prepared. He looked awful! I had to stand 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, 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 22 year old brother, Danny, helping him dress, his 19 year old sister, Alisha, putting ointment on his stitches each day, and everything in-between ...there was Mom. 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. The video and photos we shot were enough to take your breath away! 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 agonizing. We were spared the worst. 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 been born. 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 guitar sits idle, but I have faith that one day it will vibrate with sounds of deliverance. We have 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 my job was to pray fervently. I believe there is a reason why things happen the way they do. 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 aware of how blessed he is. If only children, who live at home, could comprehend the heart of a parent who's left to worry and wait. And with just a little wisdom and maybe a phone call home to check in, their agony could be alleviated. There's a saying that comes to my mind often; "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. Yet, I will never forget that call, one August morning. It was a wake-up call, in more ways than one. Ginger Boda Rhymerbabe @ aol.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ginger lives in California with her husband and three grown children. She is a contributor to various online publishers, weaving her faith and traditions into her stories and poetry. For Write 2 the Heart, Ginger wrote A Star is Born, and Baby's Day Out - which were, ironically, about this same son, Jason. She also wrote Fireworks of Destiny. Ginger writes from the heart, hoping to touch the hearts of others, as well. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Betty’s writing on fall was wonderful. It was so quite and reflective. You could feel her peace throughout. Karen I too find the change of seasons to be a time awe. Each of the four seasons has its unique smells and feels. They can stir my emotions in ways that are hard to express. Yet I find Betty King was able to put into words what I am only able to feel. Sandra --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner I’m curious. Why does children’s modeling clay come in colors? I bought some for my grandsons to play with. I carefully separated the colors and divided it equally between them. The first thing they did was pick up all the color pieces and squish them together to make a ball. Within minutes it was a gray mass. It seems like the manufactures go to a lot of unnecessary trouble to make and package these separate colors. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.