Chapter 17 #2
And while technically his mind knew Jesus was Lord, he hadn’t done a lot of letting Jesus have His way. And now, in this moment, that felt like one of his life’s ultimate storms, he had the choice to cling to how he’d always done things, or do things a different way. Jesus’s way.
“Lord.” This time the word held deep meaning. “I really want You to be my Lord,” he prayed. “I know I messed up. I know I got things wrong. Ten years ago and yeah, probably yesterday.”
Images flashed of Gen’s shock, her hurt, her anger. Images entwined with Bella’s confusion. Poor girl. The innocent victim in all of this.
His heart panged. “Lord, this just feels like such a mess. And I don’t know what to do.” Tears prickled again. “But I know that You do. Help me to trust You.”
A memory of a long-ago family vacation floated into awareness. His family had travelled to Bainbridge Island, to the beach, and built sandcastles. Maybe he’d always been something of a wuss because he could remember now how he’d cried when it was washed away by the sea.
A castle built on sand versus one built on a rock.
“Lord, I want to do things Your way, not mine.” He stifled another sob. “Lord, I need You.”
He opened his fingers, placing his palms upward, a sign he was giving his life with all its pressures to God.
Silence met him for a long moment. Then he got the oddest sense, like maybe God was speaking to him.
Just breathe. Be still. And know I’m God.
Was that God? He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like something He might say.
He drew in a breath, then another, another. Released.
Gradually the shakiness inside steadied, settled, as he kept giving his troubles to God. Each time each new fear arose, he breathed out and gave it to God.
Lord, I give You all this pain.
I give You Gen.
I give You the future I thought I’d have with her.
I give You Bella. I don’t know how to be a dad but You do, so teach me.
I give You Minnie.
I give You my parents. They need You too, and I really need wisdom there, so give me that too, please.
His prayers tangled with verses he’d read as they slid back into remembrance.
Verses about God being an ever-present refuge in time of need.
About how nothing could separate him from God’s love.
About how if Christ had set people free then they are free indeed.
Free indeed? Oh, this felt like shackles he’d never see released.
And yet… and yet…
God knew. This hadn’t taken Him by surprise, even if it had knocked the stuffing out of Kyle.
But God knew. And He was with Kyle right now. Would be with Kyle in the future. And maybe Ryan was right and God had always been gently drawing Kyle to Himself all this time.
Oh he was so glad he’d found Him. Or He had found him. Whatever.
“God, thank You for giving us Jesus. Help me to hear Your voice and follow You.”
He swallowed. This prayer required more faith than he felt right now. “And Lord, if being part of Gen’s future is not what You want for me, then help my heart to be okay with that. I want Your best, not what I think is best.”
How can you pray that, part of his mind screamed. You’re Gen’s best. You and Gen are supposed to be together.
No. He knew that God was Gen’s best. Her finding a relationship with Jesus was more important than her renewing a relationship with Kyle.
His heart settled. Okay, then. This was good. This was right. And whether it was only for a season or forever, he was going to trust God to work things out. Which might include removing the bone-deep level of attraction Kyle had for her.
“Lord, Your way. Not mine.”
He breathed in. Breathed out. And while some things might still feel impossible, something tugged within reminding him that nothing was impossible with God.
“Lord, You see this mess of mine, and it looks stupidly impossible, but I want to trust You. Help me, please?”
He breathed in, released. Breathed in, released.
And, as a measure of peace lodged in his heart, he finally went to bed and fell asleep.
Morning light teased him awake. He lay in bed a little longer, savoring the quiet. He had a bunch of things to do, but first things first. He needed to remind himself of those verses he’d recalled last night, to check that they were real and not just his imagination.
It might’ve taken him an hour, maybe more, by the time he’d found them all.
He’d needed to retrieve his phone to use the Bible app to find the others.
Saw he had a bunch of missed calls and messages.
But he ignored them, focused on more important things.
He now had a bunch of underlined verses in his Bible that he’d memorize, starting today.
He needed something sure, something fixed and certain. Life was apparently too filled with surprises for him to feel comfortable otherwise. How could he call himself a Christian and not want to know what God said?
So he read, and prayed. Prayed, and read some more. Wrote notes. Prayed. Prayed again for that long list he’d prayed last night. Then finally felt a release in his spirit to get up and get on with his day.
But he’d keep God’s promises close. He needed them, needed assurance. Who knew what today might bring?
Yet God did. “Lord, what should I do?”
He felt a whisper to send Gen a message. A kind one. Gentle. That treated her as Jesus would. So he tapped out a message.
And prayed.
* * *
“Dr. Rivas? We have a child coming into trauma two.”
Gen nodded, stuffing in the last of her ham sandwich, as she completed her report and pressed submit. Today had felt immeasurably long, and she just wanted to get home and sleep, but even home was hardly a sanctuary these days.
Mom had frozen her out. Bella’s fears only exacerbated her own.
Then there was the constant threat of Kyle, of when he’d show up, what he’d do, what his parents would do, that made her wonder what legal recourse she could take.
Mom had hinted at that this morning when she’d taken a second to stop growling, but Gen wasn’t sure what kind of protections they could have.
Gen’s was the name on Bella’s birth certificate, not Kyle’s, so that seemed fairly solid.
But who knew what money and connections could do?
The doors crashed open as paramedics accompanied a gurney, holding the unconscious, blood-stained figure of a girl.
“What do we have?”
“Head wound, possible broken arm. Found at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Name?”
“No ID. But a neighbor says her name is Lily.”
Her heart thumped. “Lily?” Not—?
She checked. Oh no.
The next minutes passed as her training battled with fresh fears.
Patients shouldn’t gain favorite status in her life, but this one had.
Lily Hendrickson had been schlepped from foster home to foster home and battled a bewildering amount of injuries along the way.
It had reached a point when Gen had even wondered if she should step in and volunteer to foster Lily at her home.
But the system wouldn’t allow it, so she hadn’t, instead waiting for the awful certainty that the girl would return to ED one day, battered and bruised again.
Throughout it all Lily had been sweet, stubbornly hope-filled, a little Orphan Annie, sure the sun would come out tomorrow. And yet time and time again she was shrouded with clouds instead.
Once again the emergency room’s trauma team worked as a machine, each person playing their role.
“We need to intubate.” Gen glanced at Francis. “I’ll do that while you check the X-ray.”
She glanced at Marcie, whose pressed lips showed this had hit her hard too. So many of them had helped Lily over the years. The portable X-ray soon revealed a fractured skull.
How could this have happened? Poor girl. Gen blinked back tears, calling on all her years of medical training to focus and get the job done. Lily did not need her tears. She needed Gen’s help.
She glanced at the support worker. “Any news on the foster parents? Anyone know how this happened?”
“Sorry, nothing.”
A few minutes later her course of action was clear. “I’m sending her to the OR. I suspect there’s bleeding on the brain, but a CT will confirm it, and if so, it needs to be carried out straightaway.”
She gently grasped Lily’s arm, wishing she knew the right words to say, the right words to pray, even. But what was the point? How could God—if He did exist—let this happen to such a sweet girl? What was the point of praying to Him, even if He was real?
“Let’s go.”
The gurney was whisked away, and she shuddered out a breath, trying to keep it together as the rest of the team exhaled.
“How can people be so wicked?” the anesthetist muttered.
She nodded. Wickedness wasn’t a concept she thought about often, but in this case it seemed apt.
It almost felt like Lily was a target for an evil spirit or something that liked to take potshots at the weak and vulnerable.
Which sounded very Halloween-like of her, but while she’d always hated watching horror movies, and Kyle used to laugh at her for being lame, she also knew that there were some things in this world that medical science couldn’t explain.