The Balance of Life

From March 25, 2012

Life hangs in such a fragile balance, ready to tip in either direction at any time. God taught me that last April. He gave me a whole new understanding of His compassion and mercy. He taught me that every breath that we will ever breathe is His. He alone holds our lives—and the capacity at which we live that life—in His hands. I own nothing; I know that more clearly today than I have ever known it.

We had been standing on our new neighbor’s front steps introducing ourselves to their family when all of a sudden I heard something unusual and turned to see my then 14 year old son fall backwards down the stone steps that just moments before he had been standing on. He landed with his head on the concrete sidewalk and his body contorted and stiff. His eyes were rolled back in his head and he was completely oblivious to the world around him. As I rushed to his side the thought that was rushing through my mind was, “He must have hit hard enough to cause head trauma!” And then after looking at the position of his body, I had to ask myself, “Did he break his neck?”

“Hunter!” I shouted his name over and over to no response. His arms were bent and stiff, not a normal position for someone that had merely fainted. For the longest five to ten seconds of my life he was unresponsive. When he regained consciousness, he was disoriented and without memory of anything that had happened prior to the fall. The neighbors helped me walk him slowly to our house where we continued to assess his condition. He could not remember even items that we knew should have been stored in long-term memory. Since he had hit his head, we worried about head trauma even though there was no external sign of injury. After about an hour of observing his confused state, we made the decision to take him to the emergency room.

By the time we arrived at the hospital, Hunter’s condition had improved; and by the time the doctor examined him, all of his memory, except for the hour prior to his fall, had returned. They performed every test imaginable on him—complete blood work up, CAT, EEG, blood pressure, UA, etc. Everything came back within normal ranges. They sent us home as puzzled as we were as to what had occurred.

I walked out of that hospital with a sense of complete amazement. As the images of Hunter’s fall played over and over in my mind, the one thing I realized was God’s protection had placed Hunter gently at the base of those stone steps. God’s hand had held Hunter’s head as he landed on the concrete sidewalk and prevented him from serious injury. Things could have been so much different. The impact of the fall could have easily caused him to break his neck or could have caused serious head trauma. Neither had taken place.

As I woke the following morning I realized that I could have been waking up to completely different results. I realized how precious life is and how little control I have over it. I realized, too, that my children were not mine, but a gift from God. As I went through my devotion that morning, three words came to mind—compassion, understanding, and tolerance. Carefully, I went through the Bible searching for verses that speak of God’s compassion. The Old Testament and the New Testament are full of statements exclaiming God’s mercy and compassion for those who love Him. I was overwhelmed as I realized that what I had received the previous night was just that—God’s compassion, understanding, and tolerance. He has tolerated my sin, He has understood my fallen nature, and when I was in pain, fearful for my dear son’s health, He had demonstrated compassion beyond comprehension. I am so undeserving of such amazing love!

We have since learned through follow-up testing (a couple days later, they called to inform us that the radiologist had found something on the CAT, that required further testing) that Hunter has a seizure disorder and a venous malformation in the left parietal lobe of his brain. We made the prayerful decision not to medicate him in spite of his neurologist’s recommendations, and he has been seizure free since that fateful day in April, another sign of God’s endless mercy.

I praise God for what I was given that night—a deeper sense of whom God really is, a deeper sense of what it means to be shown compassion. He felt my pain and knew my fear and responded with loving kindness. And even though the scales seem to be tipped in our favor for now, I know how quickly that can change; but I also know that God is holding every breath of our lives in His very capable, loving hands.