For the love of Mom.

"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, 

my shield and the horn of my salvation.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me; 

He drew me out of deep waters.

He brought me out into a spacious place;

He rescued me because He delighted in me.

The Lord has dealt with me according to my righteousness;

according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me."

-2 Samuel 2-21

There are times in your life when you are allowed to rise.  You rise up out of your body, beyond the present, beyond the to-do list, beyond the anxiety, beyond everything, beyond the disaster of your life.  Your heart is dislocated from your brain, your brain goes into fight or flight, and God guides your actions.

On Tuesday morning I came home  to find my mom unconscious on the kitchen floor.  She was barely breathing, and no matter how hard I shook her or how loud I screamed she wouldn't open her eyes.  I do not remember calling 911, telling them my address, or waiting the precious minutes till the paramedics got there.  I do not know how I was able to contain myself as the paramedics attempted to stir her back to life, sticking her with needles and shoving tubes down her throat.  I made it to the hospital and waited for my dad to get there and I do not know how I was able to stay collected.  Most of my mom's vital signs were in check--her temperature, blood pressure, etc.  But none of the doctors could figure out why she wasn't waking up.
When I had found her on the kitchen floor, I could tell she had fallen.  There was a huge bump on the back of her head.  At the hospital they told us there was a possibility she could be bleeding from her brain.  They said even though she was breathing when I found her, her oxygen levels were very low.  They said oxygen might have been cut off to her brain, and that the reason she wasn't waking up could be due to brain damage.

My dad and I had no idea what to do.  They took her to a hospital we never go to, county hospital, because of their excellent Trauma Center, and there was hardly any room for us to sit down.  They told us there was a 50/50 chance she would ever wake up, and that it could take hours--if not days--for that to happen.  We left the hospital with nowhere to go, afraid to say anything, afraid to really talk to anyone but God.  We went home and took the dog for a walk, and when we got to the beach we just sat on a bench and stared in silence out into the horizon.

I've lost many people that I've loved in my life, and it sucks.  I know how deep the shock waves go, how it takes years sometimes to locate the damage in your heart, and how it continues aching for years.  I sat on that bench with my dad for an hour, crying with him off and on, and talking it out with God.  I wasn't angry with God.  I knew He was there, that He was holding me tightly, I felt Him more than I've ever felt Him before.  I was upset, and angry that she was in a state that no one could identify, but I didn't feel alone.  I was rising, I was at peace with whatever was about to be tossed my way, and I knew no matter what I was going to be okay.

Later that evening my dad and I went back to the hospital.  They had moved my mom out of the Trauma Center into the ICU.  When we got to her bedside, her eyes were open.  She could focus and look at us.  She had these huge tubes shoved down her throat, so she couldn't talk, but she could nod her head.  My dad and I instantly burst out crying.  She was alive, awake, able to squeeze my hand when I asked her to.  The next morning they took her tubes out, and she could speak.  She was able to go home later that afternoon.  Here I had said goodbye to my mom 24 hours prior, and now she was alive and able to come home to me.

A doctor, a neurosurgeon, was filling out her discharge paperwork that evening she was able to come home.  "Wait a minute," he said, putting down his pen and looking at my mom. "Were you in the ER at the Trauma Center yesterday?"  My mom nodded.  "I remember you," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "It didn't look so good for you yesterday."  That really put into perspective the weight of how great God truly is.

My mom continues to be better than she was even before I found her unconscious.  She is one tough cookie, and she seems to have a new outlook on life.  I can't imagine waking up with tubes shoved down my throat in a hospital bed I don't recognize.  Doctors are still unsure exactly what caused her to be out for nearly an entire day, but I am so grateful for each and every moment I get to spend with my lovely mother.
There is a God, a kind and sweet One, that grants you miracles and gifts of life.
Namaste.