A week after her tumble to the ground, our girl was
cleared to ease back into life and school as she recovered. On
the day that I first took her back to school for an hour’s stay, I
felt like I was dropping a newborn off at daycare on her first
day of life. My plan was to take a walk and be within ten
minutes in case she needed to leave early. In the middle of the
walk, I needed to find a restroom. After striking out at several
places, I headed to my church. While I was there, I checked my
email and received these words from my dear friend Jan. She
put into words what I had been unable to clearly articulate:
“I feel the fear of all the ‘what ifs’ that come with such
an accident. My prayers are with you as you move through all
these and many more emotions surrounding this event. Thanks
be to God for the power of grace that touched your daughter
in that fall. For me, I don’t understand grace, but I believe you
were touched by it, and it continues to surround her.”
I tell this story with great tenderness and awe for
parents who have walked a similar road but experienced a very
different outcome. Deep in my heart dwells empathy for the
brutal possibility of losing a child, and yet I don’t fully know it.
This experience only magnifies and intensifies the questions
around the mystery of miracles within my soul. I hold onto the
belief that even if we had a different outcome on that day, grace
would still be a part of our story. But it would have been a
much more severe grace.
In the midst of our daughter’s four names is the word
“Grace.” The Chinese name that she was given by her early
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