I drive by it everyday.
The place at the end of the street where He so
sweetly spoke
to me in the middle of it all.
It was summer, and
the kids were free to play outside as long as they stayed on our small little
street. They had gotten off to an early
start that morning and then Ella had come running in the door to say that
Claire was hurt and she needed help. Ed
went out first. I remember throwing
some clothes on (I wasn’t even dressed yet), making a mental note of where I
had unpacked the Band-Aids and then I started out the door and down the steps
to check on her. At the end of the
street, I could see my Claire on the ground, laying still. My walk became a run as I made my way passed
the two houses to the end of the street.
It took forever and as I watched my baby lying there, all I could do was
whisper “Jesus”. A crowd of neighbors
had starting gathering and as we approached, I knelt down on the pavement.
She was very still, her brand new glasses lay crooked across her little face
and her eyes were closed. I reached
down and placed my hand on her and said “Claire, Mommy and Daddy are here.” She
opened her eyes, but she remained still, frozen in place, As I searched to try
to understand all that had just happened, a lady began to explain.
She had seen it. She didn’t know Claire- not like her father and I know her, but
she had been watching her when she fell.
SHE had seen her riding a bike.
I KNEW this “riding bikes thing” was new for
her.
SHE had seen her fall while trying
to manage a turn on the bike.
I KNEW she was trying a new bike (mine, in
fact)-bigger than the one she had ridden before
SHE had seen her lying on the
ground shocked at the fall.
I KNOW my Claire
is afraid of falling and she sometimes takes a moment to recover.
Concerned by her fall and slow
recovery, the lady had informed her that she might have broken something and
not to move. I sat there unsure what to
do as the situation became clear.
Claire had fallen.
Someone who didn’t even know
her—really know her - had seen her fall.
They had said she was broken.
She believed them.
They had said she should not move.
So she stayed still.
In my heart, I knew she was not
broken. She was just bruised, but very
afraid now. I wanted to tell her to
just get up and she would be okay. I
hesitated not wanting to appear like an unconcerned parent in front of all who
stood around us.
Then I watched as her Father
reached down to her and said “Claire, where does it hurt?”
It was her knees – they were clearly skinned up by the pavement
–more than she had ever experienced, but not beyond what could be healed by a
little cleaning up and ointment.
He reached down and gently sat her
up, reassuring her that she was okay.
He dealt with those “who were
concerned” which now included
paramedics and He thanked them for their concern
but let them know
that He would take care of it.
Then He turned his attention to her.
He carried her in His arms and gently, ever so gently, cleaned her
wounds.
He applied his oil and he bandaged them up.
He reassured her that she was NOT broken.
That she could still ride the “big
bike”.
That He would help her with the
turns,
and if she fell again,
He would be there to help her up.
She is smiling again now.
She is riding too.
Unafraid and reassured that she will not hurt beyond what can be
healed
and that He will not let her lay there
...in that place
...in that fear of being broken.
"He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds."
Psalm 147:3 (God's Word)
"He is the healer of the brokenhearted. He is the one who bandages their wounds."
Psalm 147:3 (God's Word)
No comments:
Post a Comment