So there it is. A date on the calendar looming large. It's just a date, but it reminds me of the most difficult day as a parent I have ever had. So now I find myself blogging in the middle of the night again.
In the weeks and months following Zach's accident, each family member has responded in different ways. Rebecca, of course, has no memory and has continued in her own sweet way. Chad seems to have processed it and put it in the "done" box. There are times when being a man definitely has its advantages.
Hannah has asked lots of questions, many of them about Heaven. I have tried to be patient and answer each question. It has been difficult as many of the same questions have returned time and time again. But she seems to be moving past the trauma of the accident, which she witnessed, and more into the true interest of becoming a Christian.
To say that I had a hard time in the weeks following August 26 would be putting it mildly. I fell into numbing depression for about a month, getting virtually no sleep for the first two weeks. I was terrified to sleep because every time I closed my eyes, I relived those moments of turning around and seeing my precious boy at the bottom of the pool. I can still hear the silence of the bottom of the deep end as I swam to its depth with every ounce of my strength to reach him, screaming in my mind to the Lord, "Please don't let him be dead." And while I can remember the accident now without feeling intense guilt, tears do still roll down my cheeks as I recall that terrifying afternoon.
But I also took so much away from that day. I immediately rearranged my priorities. I work very hard now to make sure that I seek God first, my husband second, and my children third. Somewhere along the way, my kids had slipped some knotches. It was all from good intentions on my part, but it had still happened all the same. I realized with great dismay that I had been so compassionate to reach everyone else's kids for Christ but I had completely overlooked my own. I have often thought about the children of wonderful ministers who seem to have missed the boat to Christianity all together. It used to baffle me how they could be around the Truth yet never hear or accept it. Many of them find their way back, but some do not. While I am not a full time minister, I have committed my life to working for God right where I am. My obedience is out of joy and delight, but also takes a great deal of my time. The greatest lesson God gave me from this event was a reminder that my children are a gift from Him and that I am called, first and foremost, to nurture and guide those little footsteps. It was after that realization which didn't come until the end of 2010 that I finally stepped fully into the task of shepherding my children. That was also when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to obey God's command that I homeschool my children. He had been whispering this to me long before I had gained the motherhood title, but I had been dragging my feet when it came to obeying. I finally just stopped and gave it to God. Why is it we always try to accomplish things in our own weak strength when it is so much easier to just give it to Him?
Zachary's progress has been a much different journey. In the days following the accident, he was a bit edgy, somewhat aggressive, and shrieked for me if I got out of sight. We were warned that he would act this way and it did subside after awhile. He also played with play-doh for hours on end. I had unwittingly offered him a common therapy for children who have experienced trauma of this kind. He would sit sometimes for five hours, molding and creating things over and over. It appeared to work out his frustrations. And after weeks of this therapy, he finally moved on. But his nightmares continued for some time. I have noticed that since we turned the calendars to August, his nightmares and fear of being alone have skyrocketed. Many nights lately he has urgently begged to sleep with mommy and daddy or Hannah and he even awakens at 4 or 5 and may come down to our room to ask to sleep with us.
Why am I up blogging at this late hour, you may ask? Well, at bedtime, Zach asked if he and Hannah could sleep together, a nightly question this month. I said yes, and Hannah made a pallet on Zach's floor. While they were getting everything set up, Zach announced he was going to sleep with his smiley face pillow, which some wonderful ladies had given him in the hospital. As I prepared to pray with them, Zach suddenly recapped the accident. He spoke as if he were telling me a story, telling me how he tried to grab the side of the pool, then tried to reach out for steps that weren't there. I had to sit there listening calmly, understanding yet again that my darling son was still working through this accident a whole year later. Then sometime in the early hours, I heard him cry out through the monitor and leap out of bed. I hustled up there and found him standing in front of Hannah's pallet just staring at her. I don't think he was awake because he went right back to bed when I guided him and never responded to my questions. He seemed to be calm after he realized he wasn't really alone.
So as I continue with this really long post (so sorry!), I am understanding more deeply what it means to give each of your children what they need. My kids are not all made equally. Sometimes my love tank needs to dip more to one than to the others. When they are infants, it's easy to recognize that they need a little more love and attention. It's not so easy to see the older they get. So I'll be dipping my love tank a little more fully on Zach and praying that God heals his spirit.
Lord, thank you for allowing me to have the most amazing and difficult job. Thank you that no two days are ever the same. Thank you for the sleepless nights, the tears of joy and of sadness, the never ending questions, the lessons that I am allowed to teach (many of them multiple times), and the most precious hugs I get each day. Thank you for three beautiful children who call me Mommy.
