All parents have been there, it’s the terror of the fall. That slow-motion fall that you know will result in bruising, scrapes, blood, head-banging, chin-banging, skidding, or other pains. It’s that helpless moment when everything went wrong and no one can stop it. The look of chaos on your child’s face as they feel completely out of control and helpless falling in mid air. The time in which you brace yourself and pray for the best, fearing the possibility of the worse. The fall. I’m not talking about the trip or the bump. I’m talking about the fall. The all-out fall that can only end in those sobs of pain or worse, that shriek of great pain.
I have found that the sinking feeling in your stomach doesn’t change when witnessing falls at older ages. That kind of a fall results in the same unpredictable outcome whether you’re a baby or a teenager, the first or the tenth kid. All parents should rightfully fear the fall.
Thinking about the fall, a few terrifying moments come to mind. A normal outing at the park, sitting around the picnic table with the cousins enjoying Popsicles. Abi was asleep in the stroller, she did that a lot at nearly four months and Rachael sat amongst a gaggle of cousins and her nearby her Daddy. I sat on the other side of the table with Abi and Uncle Ron when I saw it happen. Daddy was preoccupied and 21 month old Rachael fell backward, head-first off the picnic bench. For those of you who need a mental image, when you fall off a picnic bench your legs are the last things to dismount. Sure enough her head hit with a thump on the concrete, producing a bloodcurdling wail. I remember it like it was yesterday, being stuck on the wrong side of the picnic table to catch her. All I could do was pray for the best in that moment of terror. Watching her head bounce off the concrete didn’t aid in my assurance. We scooped her up, Daddy and I both at the same time – both of our hearts in the pit of our stomachs. We watched her walk for the rest of the afternoon and kept a look out for signs of a concussion. She was fine. Just rightfully shaken up. And you had better believe over-protection came thereafter for the next hour.
Today, while drawing outside with chalk, Abi tripped over her own feet while nearly running resulting in a Superman dive to the sidewalk. I thanked the Lord on impact that her elbow broke her fall instead of her face. But her feet and arm took the skidding impact of her 20 month old body. Mommy was instantly needed and with some antiseptic creme and many kisses, Abi returned to normal in five minutes of heavy sobbing into Mommy’s shirt.
Or the time that Abi fell out of her booster seat, catching her chin on the table the way down. Her head bouncing backward in aftershock. My heart sank. Suddenly “you should have listened to Mommy” didn’t matter. She needed comforted and I needed to know she still had a tongue attached properly. Comfort and time produced healing, leaving behind the battle scar of a red spot.
I wonder what God’s face looked like as He saw Adam and Eve eat from the tree. I wonder if His heart sank to His stomach watching that slow-motion fall that He knew would result in bruising, scrapes, blood, head-banging, chin-banging, skidding, or other pains. It’s that helpless moment when everything went wrong and His redeeming love knew it was better not to stop it, though His compassion wanted to.
Being a parent is teaching me so much about the restraint and the heart and the compassion and the self-control and the reckless running that the Father has for His kids.
Being a parent is teaching me more about God
and forcing me to run to His arms all the more.
– thankful, even in the scrapes.
