A Concussion's Answered Prayer: One Year Later

Her body slumped over.
Faintly crying.

Difficulty breathing.
I couldn't get to her fast enough.
My legs ran while my heart raced and my mouth prayed.
Is she okay?  God, let it be a broken bone.  Bones mend.  Internal healing is harder.
I carefully picked up her fragile body and cradled her in my arms.  Her forehead, chin, elbow and knee were scraped from the hard, brown dirt that blackened her world for a few long seconds.  The tree swing swung like a pendulum above where I stood.  Her injured head throbbed and she lay limp.

Kaylee and her best friend a few weeks' prior to the accident.

"Kaylee!  Kaylee!"  I wanted to shout but instead whispered to her.  "I've got you."
"Where am I?" she whispered back.
I recalled to her the events of the day (at the park, playing tennis, went on the tree swing, and took a tumble), and she blankly stared at me.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Kaylee," she quietly answered.
Phew.  She knew her name.  With a series of quick events, we got her home within a few minutes.  We knew she experienced a concussion; we just didn't know the severity of it.
In the next few hours, she would have every freakishly scary sign of a concussion and would spend awhile in the ER.  The scans came back clear (praise God!).  No bleeding in the brain.  Rest.  Rest.  Rest.  Wake her up and check her vitals.  Rest.  Rest.  Rest.  Repeat.

The next day after her doctor's appointment, we were driving in the car.
"Mom, I know that angels were protecting me when I fell," she shared from the backseat.
"Really?  How do you know?" I asked.  Honestly, I was skeptical.  I mean, c'mon, I viewed for that moment that they could have protected her more, and here she is teaching my heart a lesson.
"It could have been so much worse," she answered.

It made me think about something bigger than a concussion.  For nearly two years before this accident, we nightly prayed the same prayer by her bedside.  When we lived in California, their school had a lockdown, and she developed a fear of "robbers"  (there was a man who had stolen a car in the vicinity, so they locked down the school as a precaution).  From that experience, she began to have nightmares which made nighttime difficult, and most nights she would end up in the wee morning hours sandwiched between me and Matt in our bed.  We had prayed for peace over her dreams, and, honestly, we were beginning to run out of words to pray.
When she told me about the angels protecting her, I remembered all of those nights where we prayed she'd feel God's protection around her, and now she understood it in a rather obscure, interesting way.  
It has been 365 days since the concussion, and the number of nightmares this year haven't even filled up the fingers on one hand!  A crazy, horrible concussion jolted all of us to the reality that God's plans and ways are higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9).

"Yes, Baby, angels were watching out for you." 

When Your Anchor is Pulled: Love and Loss

 

The radiant sun setting behind Mt. Baker and the British Columbia sky glowing with an indelible silhouette of colors was the perfect ending for a day filled with celebrating my Grandpa's life.  One of triumph.  Overcoming.  Legacy.  Beauty.  Devotion.  Sacrifice. 
I have tears of sadness at the simple reality that I miss him.  I miss the weekly emails.  I miss him telling me to give Matt a swift kick in the pants for him.  I miss just being in the same room as him; I always left filled, better, inspired, and reflective.

Our Edmonds Walk on Thanksgiving

This past Thanksgiving while the turkey was baking, and we were waiting for family to arrive I decided to briefly drive to my favorite spot: the Edmonds waterfront.  The landscape feels like you've entered a painting with the bright blue Puget Sound below the majestic Olympic Mountain Range and whistling ferries and gentle boats on the water.  My 92-year-old Grandpa headed to his room at my parent's

house to take a rest when I disrupted it with, "Grandpa, do you want to go with me to Edmonds?"
He looked at me with his inquisitive, always thinking and loving eyes and immediately said, "Well, of course." 
It is one of my most special memories.  Him and I walking arm and arm in the clear, brisk November air as we took in the beauty, talked about life, I listened to stories, and sat in silence with my head on his strong shoulders. 

He never wanted to miss moments in each and every day.

Didn't know this would be our last picture together. 

And so today we said goodbye.  As we crossed back into the US from Canada, I felt like the family's anchor was pulled from the ship suddenly.  The pain is real.  But somehow, in a strange and amazing way, the ship sails and the compass points north, and the anchor remains in the life Grandpa gave us and taught us.
I thank the Lord for this man who helped guide me.  And his beautiful life forever continues in our hearts and the way we live each day.        

11 of his 14 great-grandkids he prayed for daily