The God who is here

It was a sunny mild afternoon last week, on February 13, when I received the phone call that I was always afraid I would get. My husband Bill was out cycling, enjoying the warm mid-February weather. I was home, reading, writing, and posting a blog about Valentine's Day.  He was expected back home within a half hour or so, when my cell phone rang.  Caller ID showed that it was Bill's phone.  I answered, anticipating that he had a flat and needed me to pick him up. That has happened before.  But in his three decades of cycling, this had not.

Life changes radically in a millisecond. 

It was not Bill on the other end of the line, but an Emergency Medical Technician who said that Bill had been hit by a truck, and that they were transporting him to a local hospital.  "Meet us at the ER,"  the first responder directed me.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and headed to the hospital, not knowing anything more about what had happened and what to expect.  I felt strangely calm, heading not just to an emergency room, but into what was unknown and unexpected.  I had no idea what was ahead in the next few minutes, but there was a calmness around me, a palpable embracing as I navigated through traffic.  It was far beyond what could be identified as a feeling, nor an emotion, but a presence -- not just the God who is there, but the God who is here.  I didn't even know what to think, what to pray, or what was unfolding before me.  But God's faithfulness filled in all the gaps.

Bits of scripture floated to the surface of my thoughts, not in words memorized decades ago, but as  profound truth, deep and sure.

Even though I walk through the valley of death,
I fear no evil,
for You are with me.
Your rod and Your staff,
        they comfort me.

                      Psalm 23. 4

When I was almost to the hospital, the EMT called again to say that they were taking Bill instead to Vanderbilt, because of trauma.  Reality began to set in.  The traffic seemed to flow even slower.  I called our daughter Kat who is a doctor, unsure what she could do with a house full of preschoolers and toddlers.  Little did I know, but our son-in-law was home to take their four year old to a karate lesson.  He took the whole clan with him to the lesson, including the twin babies in a stroller.  Kat was on her way to meet me in the ER to help. 

And as I drove the last couple of miles, I heard an ambulance coming up behind me, the heavy traffic pulling over to the curb to let it through, the lights flashing, the siren calling out its warning, the noise resounding even as the emergency vehicle pulled out of sight.  Bill is in there, I realized.  O LORD, have mercy.

Bill lay on a gurney in triage, prone, quiet, covered with a white cotton blanket, his hands splattered in blood. He was alive.  He recognized me.  He mumbled questions, "Where am I?  Why am I here?  What happened?"  We answered him.  Two minutes later, he would ask the same questions again.  That repeated for about an hour, over and over again.  Our other daughter Hannah who lives nearby arrived at the ER full of grace and compassion and comfort spilling over.  Late that evening, she and her boyfriend Eric drove back to our house to retrieve clothes for Bill and things that I would need if I had to stay the night in the hospital.

As the hours passed in the ER, Kat helped me navigate through so many unknowns.  In addition to Bill's fractured wrist, two broken ribs, a jaw broken in two places, a small laceration to his liver, ripped ear, and deep puncture wound to his knee, there was brain trauma in the form of a serious concussion. 

He has no recollection from the time he left on his ride about 2.30 to when they moved him onto a bed in the trauma unit at 10.30 that night.  I hope that he never remembers it.  From what we heard from others, an oncoming pickup truck turned left immediately in front of him.  Bill's head went through the truck's windshield.  A divinely appointed ER doctor and an attorney were running the same road, a short bit behind Bill, witnessed the accident and utilized their emergency expertise to care for him until the ambulance could get there.

After learning from others what had unfolded, Kat remarked that the laws of physics cannot explain why he was not even more seriously injured.  Indeed, we were told the ER doctor at the scene didn't think Bill was going to make it.  He was totally unresponsive for more than two minutes.

We are grateful to God for sparing his life.

After four days in the trauma unit, Bill is home recuperating.  He is in pain.  He is resting and staying quiet, no screens, no noise, pretty much keeping his eyes closed.  It's going to be a long road.  His workout now is moving the fifteen feet between the bed and a cushioned chair in the living room. Today he even ventured out on the porch. Although he is tired, he looks forward to visits from so many faithful friends and cycling buddies. He is on a diet basically of soup and smoothies for at least another four weeks, because of  jaw surgery.  His body is healing.  His brain is slowly recovering. But as a friend texted me, he gets to recover.  For that we are still astonished.

Sometimes we live in mystery for that which runs deeper and in infinite God-appointed layers, world without end.   But we are not alone.

Fear not, for I am with you,
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you,
I will help you,
I will strengthen you
     with My victorious right hand.

                          Isaiah 41. 10

Very early the morning of the accident, I prayed, not knowing what was ahead that day.  The very last thing I wrote down in my prayer journal was:
         
              Fill us, O LORD, with Your grace,
              strength and wisdom for the tasks ahead today,
              and Your purposes seamlessly woven.

I had no idea how much I would need that.

Many thanks for those who have been praying
and continue to pray to the LORD
who is healer, redeemer,
                            and the God who is here.