I was talking to a client of mine the other day and told him about Jackson's fall from the third story window and how amazing it was that he was unscathed (for the most part). Everyone agrees that it's a miracle that he walked away with just a few scratches. My client asked me if this experience had "opened my eyes". This particular client is a religious man and he quotes the bible often so I knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to know if I was any closer to praising God for saving my child. Other people have praised God up one side and down another and I just, well, I just struggle with doing the same.
You see, one of my other clients has a son who fell from a two story window several years ago. He was about the same age as Jackson when he fell. He's permanently brain damaged and will never be the same child. He will probably never be self sufficient. He and his mother were one of my very first thoughts when I heard that my own son had fallen from a window. I bargained for a broken arm or leg or a permanent scar. Anything except for permanent brain damage or worse. It's funny what you'll settle with when faced with possible death.
I struggle with praising God for letting my child walk away un-harmed because why did he choose my son over another mother's son? When someone says that "God is good" and he helped my son, all I can think is what about the other boy? What about the other children who fall from windows and don't walk away? Is my son more special than other mother's sons? I don't think so. I think each child is as special as the rest.
Don't get my wrong. I am so grateful and over the moon that my son is perfectly OK and that he will have no lasting anything from his tumble. I thank my lucky stars everyday and I think that there's a reason he was spared. I think there's something out there bigger than all of us, I'm just not sure that's it's one man, or spirit, or ghost or whatever.
I may come to my moment of reckoning and wish I had believed with every fiber of my being. I may take that moment to start praying and asking for forgiveness from God himself instead of just asking for forgiveness from the universe. I may regret not going to church and giving thanks and 10% of my income to a church to "spread the word".
It's all unknown and that's what I struggle with I suppose. All I do know is that I'd be naive to think that there isn't something out there that is bigger than all of us. There just has to be. I know that when I think of seeing my boy for the first time after he fell will be etched in my brain forever and my throat will catch and I'll have to hold back tears. I know that sneaking into his room late at night to watch him breathe is a luxury that I relish now more than ever.
I'm eternally grateful to whoever saved my son whether it was God or angels or little sprites. I believe in something, I'm just working out exactly what that is.