I was five when they told her I might die.
My delicate spine bruised like a blooming flower in yellows and violets and then the dull brown of dying blood.
It was this blood that was no good. The very thing we had in common.
I lay in sterile pallor on the thin bed, crinkling under the sheet with the plastic covering, ready to be stripped down and reused again, should the bed be vacated by tragedy or triumph. The rooms in this hall opened to reveal tiny wig stands that reminded me of a boutique of bodiless white styrofoam guards keeping watch over their tiny patients.
There were other things. I woke to find a St. Bernard in my bed once, a tiny stuffed dog with his medicine barrel strapped to his neck. I named him, Pete Fitz after a friend of the family I can no longer remember.
And she was always there, by my bedside, curled uncomfortably on a slim cot. Being woken throughout the nights when the nurses would stalk in with heavy footsteps and reach with cold hard fingers for my tiny wrists. Pushing aside my plastic bracelet which told me I was a prisoner to the needle pricks every time the door swung wide and the harsh fluorescent triangle of light would cut across my bed.
I would reach for my mama, and she would be at my side even as I rolled toward her. I would cling to her hands, feeling the warmth encircle mine and turn my head and she watched every tear as they poked and prodded and she never sobbed heavy over me.
I don’t know when she found the time for her tears. I only knew she soaked up every one of mine. I knew nothing but the pain in my body and the curious wonder of a child who can’t fathom their mother allowing the pain, but knowing she is good and trusting her completely.
She taught me of faith known by an élite sect, the mamas who wrestle with God’s will and pray for it, knowing it must be well with their soul even unto the taking of their baby.
She has faced this not once but several times as she’s raised us. This releasing into faith. The big kind that people always say they want but really don’t because that kind of faith hurts and tears and breaks things apart.
That kind of faith cripples the recipient with hobbled knees and broken spirit, so that what remains is absolute surrender to a God who can carry every shattered part.
That kind of faith is savage. It looks their dying child in the eyes, sunken and hollow, cheekbones pushing out of a face that was once cherubic and full and says, “Your will God, not mine,” and hopes to mean it.
Alia, that was gut wrenching, thank you for sharing such an important piece of your life. Have a blessed day. Tara (The Proverbs 31 Sanctuary)
Thanks Tara. Yes, now that I’m a mom, it makes everything my mother went through so much more profound.
Alia Joy recently posted..Purpose Project Hair
Alia, this was beautiful… I always love reading these bits of you. I pick them up and I gather them together and what I behold is beauty! This —>The big kind that people always say they want but really don’t because that kind of faith hurts and tears and breaks things apart.–> This has me feeling a little wobbly kneed today as I so despartely want to fall apart right now… but I can’t because they frown on those things at work… And I want to fall apart because that faith, that your faith that your mama laid claim to over you – that’s what I want – that’s the legacy that I want to leave. And I want to go there -to that place where the fire is hot and the brokeness is complete – Thank you friend <3
Tonya Salomons recently posted..Thread Memories
Thank you friend. For always being there. I am just so thrilled that we’ll be seeing each other soon.
Alia Joy recently posted..Purpose Project Hair
gee whizz this is gripping! Very powerful. Does your mama read your work? I hope so – it is so honoring to her.
Fiona recently posted..Building Your Lifeboat
She does, she is my number one reader. She just stinks at all things computer related and has a really hard time commenting. She has a couple times and then promptly forgets how to do it again since she typically reads on her Kindle.
Alia Joy recently posted..Purpose Project Hair
You’ve done it again, Alia! Thank you for putting words to so many of the whirling emotions I have running around inside me. It is comforting to know I’m not the only one who sometimes thinks I don’t actually really want big faith after all… Its’ growing pains DO hurt more than I want to bear…
No, you’re not the only one. Big faith seems like an awesome thing and it’s beautiful to behold in others but the cost is very high.
Alia Joy recently posted..Purpose Project Hair
I got a chill, reading what you wrote of you and your mama .Love you both!! So glad God saved you for her and for us all.
Kimberley
Thanks Kimberly. She is pretty awesome! And yes, I’m glad God still has me around.
Alia Joy recently posted..Purpose Project Hair