Of all the things I have imagined doing with my child, laying on an emergency room hospital bed comforting him was not on the list.
And yet today, the day that was supposed to be spent in the sun doing yard work and welcoming a new group of girls who will be living in the unit below us and tackling those ten (yes, ten) loads of laundry that have piled up this week (can you tell that going to Brisbane and preparing for our presentations in America next week has kicked me in the butt?)… that is what we did.
Little man had a temperature… 103.5. It had been fluctuating between 101.5 and 102.5 all day the day before, and this morning I just couldn’t kick it. It kept going up. So the doctor said to bring him straight to the ER.
Once we got past the wall of smoke (why is the smoking section of a HOSPITAL right outside the entrance?) and the blood splatters on the concrete (so gross), they put us straight into the first available bed.
…The one across from the man covered from head to toe in a sheet. I kept sneaking glances to see if he’d move (surely they don’t just leave dead bodies lying around… right?). He must’ve sensed my unease because he finally peeked at me, smiled, and put the sheet back over his face.
Evidently they take a fever that high in such a little one pretty seriously. I’m a first time mom and not much of a worrying one at that. How was I supposed to know?
In the end, they said it was a viral infection… and to keep doing what we’re doing. Keeping him cool and comfortable, and managing the fever with meds.
It got me thinking about perspective though. The way that I/we see life.
Here I was, just one day in the Emergency Room with my son. We were just trying to do our best to look after him but pretty certain everything was and would be fine.
But what about those who aren’t fine? What about people like our friend Landon.
We’ve been praying for Landon for 25 days now. He was in a horrible car accident and he just isn’t waking up.
And of all the things to be challenged by, Landon’s family’s perspective in the midst of this awful situations is… incredible. How do you talk about a coma? Unhopeful doctors? The threat of death… with humour? With vulnerability? With honesty? With inclusiveness? With humility? With hope?
I’ve learned a lot from those Hochstetlers in the past 25 days.
An easy life is not always a guarantee.
But we do have choices to make. Perspective to determine. Hope to fight for.
And I hope that whether I’m thrown a big curve ball like Landon’s or just an annoying lob like Max’s, that I remain full of faith and hope and love.
Thanks Hochstetlers. Your faith and hope and love have challenged the way that we see life.
And that is just ONE of the reasons that the past 25 days have not been in vain!
Hoping. Believing. And Loving with ya…