Phone screaming….son’s strong voice cracks
“mom I just hit someone…..”
Storm hammers down as we peel back pitch darkness
to find his truck.
There it is, like a dislocated elbow tilting from empty road
but where is the other car?
Lightning shrieks. There in the gravel, a small gray mound.
Somehow my feet are moving, running.
One grown hand rises into the thunder
from a wheelchair,
it’s broken inhabitant spilled out onto dirt like a bag of seed
ripped and tossed
metal and glass
gravel and bone
angels leaning in to grasp fragile thread,
soften steel on skin,
sparks of living fanned,
guarded from rain;
Time dropped to knees,
ground into asphalt
voices drifting, calling, praying
heaven spilling into ugly places,
rivers pouring light through rain,
unseen hands bringing supply, grabbing life, gathering help
like soft warm bread to soak up the dying
and breathe back some wholeness.
Lights blue and red and rushing, blaring, burning into night,
questions fast and hard…..pumping boy to man in seconds.
badges pressing down heavy
then easing weight of road from sagging shoulders
And a lonely young woman with no one to call
is soaked in love
like a dry creekbed,
a river running through it now.
While Love rains down,
and my soul bleeds fresh raw thanks for the life of my son
and this whole fragile, messy, painful, delicious business
(Prayers so appreciated, my beautiful blogging community, for gentle John, who was unhurt physically but
whose huge heart aches and shakes over the wounded woman in the road and the awful images of the night.
Also for her….for restoration in every way that a life can be mended.
Loads of love and thanks,