Some of you do not know the story about how we found our darling Sommer nonresponsive and not getting enough oxygen. It’s not something I am willing to share but the Holy Spirit in all His wisdom must think otherwise. I ask you to take my hand and walk with me through this post.
On November 28, 2016, around 2:00 in the morning my husband crashed through our bedroom door screaming my name. You know when someone in the family uses your full name there is trouble. He followed it with “Get up she is not breathing!” I rolled over and the family room lights were shining in my eyes. My mind was still stuck on him calling me “Heidi!”
I saw Sommer lying on one side of the sectional and my Father-in-law breathing into her mouth. My husband was begging her to wake up. I screamed, “Get her on the floor she needs CPR!” I then ran out of the garage and next door to my neighbor whom I had just met and knew he was a retired Army medic. I started pounding on their front door as I called 911. Note to self, put “Emergency” in your cell phone contact it saves time when you don’t have your glasses on and you’re in the dark. He finally came to the door and being a “Good ole boy from Texas” he brandished his gun. Yes, I screamed. Yes, I almost wet myself. I told him Sommer was not breathing and he took off in a sprint and was in my house and working chest compressions before I made it back inside. I came into the kitchen and everything went into slow motion. A gun was on my countertop. Chester was bare-chested and sweating. I cried out to Jesus. Begging him “No, Jesus, No! He heard me.
I remember going to my closet to get dressed. Debating with myself do I wear a bra or a wired cami. I keep a small case packed in case of emergencies’. I grabbed it and put some things inside, slid on my Converse shoes and went to the car and waited for Chris. I remember a Sherriff coming to ask my name and how I was related to Sommer. I could not think. We followed the ambulance to the local hospital five miles away.
I am not sure if I saw her there or not but suddenly a flight crew arrived. The nurse had given me a blanket because I was in shock. Literally. I didn’t get the picture.
Our house is on the flight path from Seguin Hospital to San Antonio. I hear it fly over every day. Sometimes two or three times a day. Funny, I never noticed it before. When I did see our Sommer, she had a tube in her mouth and she had her creamy complexation back. I talked to her and kissed her.
I came out of the curtain and stepped over to the flight crew and introduced myself and said I would be riding with her and thanked them. I walked away. They avoided eye contact with me after that. Our Youth Pastor and his wife arrived from Cibolo to be with us. I don’t know why but I smiled and said ‘Hi,” as if I had just seen them in the store.
The reality was starting to set in. “Oh, my God what the….in my past and sometimes present life I am an F-bomber pilot…need I say more?
I did not ride with her to Methodist Hospital at Stone Oak, our second daughter did. There was a care-a-van to that hospital. I did not know that at the time. I just knew I could see the flashing tail light of the helicopter and I felt as if we were following a star. We were, and her name is Sommer.
I want to tie in my last post about saying things to people in grief that are easy off the tongue but damaging to the heart.
Going to church is hard on me. I see my daughter, Sommer in every little kid’s face. She grew up in that church. I watched her go from ponytails to a cute short bob in 17 years. She is EVERYWHERE IN THE CHURCH. EVERYWHERE!
Last Sunday a woman I barely know broke into a private conversation I was having with a woman whose husband died tragically and suddenly.
I said, “Amelia, the second year seems harder for me than the first. I cry every day.” She got it. I told her that it’s not the natural way life goes. Your kids should outlive you. The other woman said to me, “So, you think God was wrong!?” The back of my brain is thinking ‘what the…bomber pilot. The Holy Spirit said, “NOT HERE.” I explained that I felt it was just not the order of life. “So, you do think God was wrong!? The bomber pilot in me was ready for take-off.
God loves bomber pilots. F-16. F-18. F-14….and just plain ole F-pilots.
“That’s not glorifying God to be THAT type of bomber pilot,” you might say
That’s the beauty of His grace. His compassion. His unlimited LOVE. And I am just a recovering sinner that’s not there yet. But, GOD WILL GET ME THERE! I know this is true.
Prayer without complete honesty, being naked before the Lord is an empty prayer.
My grief is real. I am in trauma 101.
I worship a living God who will work this out for me in His time. His time! And God is never late.
Pass the tissues, please.