all in

Sunday morning...

I rolled over to find Bean in bed with me. I check the time and picked up my iPod Touch to check in with the world, as I often do to "ease into" my morning. In my email inbox I was greeted with two emails. One was a pesty advertisement for some online printing company and another was a mass email sent by a friend informing us all that a friend of ours, "Slim",  was in the hospital with a broken back and the very real possibility of being fully paralyzed from the neck down. Less than 24 hours ago he had dove into a pond and had been flight lifted to a nearby hospital, his family rushing to be by his side. It was one of those emails that kicks you in the gut and causes you to shake your head in the hopes of waking you out of some bizarre dream.

After reading the email, my immediate thought was to find my husband (since Bean had clearly taken his place in our bed during the night). He had been Slim's youth pastor years ago (had even given him the nickname "Slim") and watched him grow up into an amazing young man and marry a beautiful woman. They had kept in touch off and on over the years. Every September 7th I would remind Scott to give Slim a call and wish him a happy bday, as he shared the same bday with my own son.

I found my hubby in Bean's bed, asleep under her hot pink comforter, "out like a light" (as we say in our family). I gently woke him with the news as he groggily came to and he bolted up to make some calls, texts, emails.

We headed off to church, sat in our seats with a dull ache in our chests, Scott checking his phone every five minutes for any piece of news. Slim was in surgery to repair his back but there was no news of the state of his paralysis, yet.

We came home from church and both of us fell into bed. I was tired from the past week, fighting off some pending cold, and sad for Slim and his wife. Scott lay there staring up at the ceiling.

Our mini conversation went something like this...

Me: Are you okay?
Scott: Tired.
Me: And blue? Are you thinking of Slim?
Scott: Yes and yes.

(long quiet pause)

Scott: I have had thirteen more years of life than Slim...what have I done with my life for the last thirteen years?
Me: You've lived your live Scott. You've lived your life...

There is something about a jolt of trauma that shakes us into the reality that our life can change in a flash. And it makes us reflect on the life we have lived thus far. I am a firm believer that we are given the privilege to co-write our journeys with a loving God, but that ultimately the script belongs to him. There are certain things about our future days that are kept hidden from us because to know them would cause us great and needless emotional trauma before its time. We would waste all of the other days leading up to those moments in fear, worry, or anticipation and forget to live the moments we are given now.

I do not know why God stood by and watched Slim to take that one last dive into the water. I do not pretend to know God's ways, nor can I explain fully why he allows tragedy to enter our life. But I do know that our life is not a cosmic game.  I know I am voicing my very personal beliefs here, and I respect that you have your own, but I believe there are no gambles with God. The deck is not stacked against us, nor does he throw a few chips in for us in the hopes that we have been dealt a good hand, or that we are good enough to "win".

Despite my present questioning posture right now over Slim's circumstances, I do believe that God is in fact, as they say, "all in" on his behalf. He is with us every breath, every step, every joy, every tear,  because he loves us, and he knows the end game: that our experiences in this broken world are befitting for our journey that ultimately leads to him. They are unique to us as a finger print and they are part of the beautiful, sometimes tragic, script that is our life.

If you have a moment and believe in prayer, please pray for Slim (and his wife).
I know they could use it.