Faith is a funny thing. When I heard those awful words that changed my world, my breath hitched, and instinctively my knees buckled.
As I sit here typing this, and that flood of emotions return, it's odd what you recall.
The ER doctor calling me out of the room to look at the X-ray
The look of fear on her face while she tried to tell me not to worry. Fat chance, doc.
Stumbling back to the room where Lennon lay motionless
Immediately texting my mom saying "I need you to pray with all you've got, something's wrong."
I'd like to tell you God and I are on good terms, but that wouldn't be fair to say. Like so many of us that grew up in the Bible Belt, and were at times what felt like force fed religion like we were starving, I rebelled against it. In my teen years I gave up going to church, I phoned in my prayers thinking God had better things to do. I grew resentful of organized religion as a whole feeling it was all a money grab, and I didn't need to go to church to know God, to know the rules, to be a good person. I could do that on my own.
Once again I'd love to say there was some magical moment where I rediscovered my faith and the miracles of it all, but that isn't the case. In my line of work where death and tragedy occur more often than not, it's hard to understand the why's and how's of it all. In a world filled with so much hate for one another, and such an abundance of disdain for people being fundamentally who they are, left me wanting no part of it.
At this point, all I can hope is to be forgiven. To hope that my years and attempts to be a good person, to help others, have compassion and empathy for everyone, haven't gone unnoticed. I can only hope that my pleas and those of everyone praying for Lennon are heard.
I can only move forward doing better, being better.
retribution.
Dear God, please help my baby
Comments