I've put off writing this post for quite awhile. I think it was too emotional for me, and maybe a bit too revealing about me as a mother. Would people judge me for my mistakes? Now I realize it just doesn't matter. I need to share my thoughts about sweet whisperings, promptings we can receive from the spirit. Warnings at times. I've read several
blogs lately documenting
loss, tragedy. Mostly the loss of a child. My heart is so heavy as I read them. My throat and chest ache from trying to hold in my sobs. I cannot fathom the pain of losing a child. I can't wrap my mind around it. I have fears sometimes of losing one. It always happens to be Emily which really confuses and frightens me. I'll watch the news and panic. I'll watch Law and Order and panic. I'll walk down the boardwalk with my kids, counting every head as we go, and panic. Then I remember that the Lord does not use FEAR to teach or help us. He uses gentle (ok...maybe sometimes forceful) promptings of the spirit, but never fear. Fear is from someone else.
Back in July, we spent a few days in Fairview with Dave's family at his sister Kim's house. She has a pool. What could be cooler? My friend Jamie lent me this cool floatie for Molly. I worried that the pool would be so crowded, that we would lose track of her. That she could slip out of her tank-top floatie and sink. I prayed before we went. And then I watched her like a hawk. There WERE tons of people in the pool. 20-25 at times. I kept right on watching her. I was never more than 5 feet from the pool. I kindof sat by myself a lot so that I wouldn't be distracted by conversation. Friday came and went and everything was fine.
On Saturday, after the parade, we headed back to Kim's to swim again. Fear entered my mind as we drove back. I could visualize Molly going under the water, but noone knowing about it. I was afraid. Then I told myself that that must have been a promting from the Lord. She was going to drown. What would I do? I decided to take that fear and turn it into something positive. Once again I watched her vigilantly. I didn't take my eyes off of her. Until Margaret woke up inside the house. Molly had been just fine for 2 days. If I ever had to turn away from the pool, I asked Grandma or Kara to watch her. This time I didn't. I thought I would only be a second. Minutes later, someone brought her in the house, sobbing, wrapped in a towel. She had taken off her floatie, then decided she wanted to hop back in. She climbed down the stairs and inched along the wall with her hands, until she slipped and went under. Dave's brother Bob, who I am SURE was led by the spirit to be standing just where he was, to turn his head just when he did, saw her struggling. Within seconds, he had reached down and pulled her out. I was sick. I was SO sick. I had seen it happening in my mind, tried to prevent it, then sat in the house as it happened anyway. What if Bob hadn't seen? What if he had, but 60 seconds later? The pool was SO loud. So much yelling and splashing. What if? What if's don't do a whole lot of good. I think they are natural. It is just what we do as Moms. It just didn't help. Playing it over and over in my head didn't either. Today, 7 months later, I am grateful. For Bob, for Molly, for whisperings from the Lord.
About 2 months ago, I was reminded again how the Lord can speak to us. Protect those we love. I realize also, that not all stories end like this. Many, many stories end in heartache. Did these people fail to hear the promtings? Absolutely not. No. By expressing how I have been blessed, I hope to never take from those who have lost. There is a plan. None of us knows what it is. Only the Lord. Only Him.
We were giving the Bumbo a try. Margaret was so skinny that it was tough at first. She would slip down in the seat. She hated it. Once she plumped a bit though, she'd sit in it every now and again. I had her on the kitchen counter (I realize you could judge me at this point. It was irresponsible.) while I was emptying the dishwasher. I ran back to the bedroom for a second...can't even remember why. I knew she'd be safe on the counter. It was a bumbo for pete's sake. Those things are sturdy. I saw that the bed was unmade, and you KNOW how I like my bed to be made. I went to Dave's side to start pulling up the sheets. Then I I felt it. An urge to hurry back to the kitchen. Seriously, this will only take a minute. That's what I thought. But, I felt it again, so I stopped and I went. She was just fine, right there on the counter. I continued to put away the dishes. Within 60 seconds, Margaret had arched her back in frustration...so far, that she fell out of the bumbo onto the counter. If I had continued to make that bed, she could have been on the floor. What if I hadn't listened? There I go with the what if's again. I am so grateful that I felt that urgency. That I heard that prompting. That I listened. That my Margaret is ok.
The Lord loves us. He loves our children. He guides us daily in our lives. Through seemingly meaningless choices and decisions. He is the guide.
