SUNDAY THOUGHTS: THE NEVER-ENDING ADVENTURES OF CHILDHOOD ON MOTHERS' DAY

Parenting is not a part time job. 

Even on days set aside for celebration, the tasks of mothers and fathers never end. 

Today provided yet one more reason why the job of a parent is never done, and sometimes, the celebrations of parenthood and adulthood have to take a backseat to the adventures of childhood.

My little sister rushed my nephew to the emergency room at Fort Washington Ambulatory Hospital this afternoon. 

Apparently, Mothers' Day was the day that he decided to see if he could stand up on a kitchen chair. He couldn't. He and the chair ended up on the floor. 

The chair is fine. My little nephew, on the other hand, got a ride to the hospital, and some $50.00 Neosporin for his attempt at being an acrobat.

While taking her children to honor her own mom, a friend, and one of my and my late Mother's favorite former students, heard the sound of her child being struck by a car. That same child had spent the better part of the day saying, "Happy Mothers' Day!" as if he'd forgotten he had said it the first hundred or so times. 

She'd attended church—two services—and was going to spend the remainder of the day celebrating with her family. As she had done so many times before, she parked across the street from her mother's house. Two of her children, in their excitement to see their grandmother, managed to cross the street, as she was retrieving her mom's gifts from her car. The middle child, who is 7, didn't make it. She said, all that she heard was the impact, and the sound of a speeding vehicle. The driver left the scene.

When my daughter and I arrived at the hospital, my friend was still wearing a flower in her hair. Her son had been stabilized, and was having x-rays taken. Her husband was sitting on the floor of the hospital, which, fortunately, wasn't particularly busy. 

As we approached to greet them, she managed a smile, and said almost in the form of a question, "Happy Mothers' Day".

My Dad told me that Moms Mabley had a comedy routine about traffic safety. He said that Moms reminded the audience of the habit that parents have of directing their children to watch the lights. 

Moms said that lights never killed anybody. We need to tell our children to watch the CARS.

I get it, Mystery Driver. You were speeding, realized that you struck a child with your car, said a few expletives and sped off...or maybe you WEREN'T speeding, but were in a vehicle that you neither purchased, nor had permission to drive...or maybe you didn't see the child, and thought that you hit a dog, a cardboard box, a deer...or maybe someone had a gun to your head and told you not to stop. 

Look. I'm trying to understand, and also stay keenly aware that none of us truly knows WHAT we will, or won't do in any given situation.
So, Dear Mystery Driver, I'm kind of happy that my friends don't have the name and face of a person with whom to be angry. I'm glad that she had the presence of mind to get her child safely to the nearest hospital. What you missed, when you drove off, either out of fear, or just a complete lack of compassion, was the anguish of a mother--on Mothers' Day no less-- the frantic ride to the hospital as he screamed, "It hurts! It hurts!", his bewildered little brother and big sister, and the pain and recovery the child and his family are now facing. 

NO little kid should have a broken fibula and tibia and a head injury on ANY day, but for the injury to occur on Mothers' Day just makes it that much more heartbreaking. 

Fortunately he's young and resilient. Fortunately Greater SE Community Hospital is no longer the butt of jokes. Fortunately, Children's Hospital is one of the finest in the nation, and sent its gleaming ambulance to transport the child to even more capable hands. Fortunately a mother and father have a strong marriage, strong faith, and intense love for their children so that they could adequately comfort each other as the doctors and nurses did their work.

We all have places to go, people to see, and things to do, but for the sake of every one and every thing that has to cross a street, slow down people. Seriously. Residential neighborhoods are not speedways. 

Look out for the children, because they are not always looking out for you. Their attention is on where they have to go, and they're usually going very fast.
We all need to be more attentive where the children of the village are concerned. It infuriates me when I see a mother who seems to be oblivious to the actions of her child or children. SO WHAT if there are 12 other people in the vicinity. It does not exempt you from the primary responsibility of attending to your own kid. 

No one should have to alert you to what your child is getting in to, if you are in the room! Say something. DO something. Yes, kids will be kids, but if you have one of those kids that is making the village hearken for the days of a good old fashioned woodshed... If you don't want anyone to say ANYTHING to your child, in the form of correction--then YOU correct, attend to, discipline, clean up after, and control your own kid!

Almost every day I hear some mother cursing at her child to "Come on! Get your little ass over here" Well Mom, you may be weary, worn and tired, but if your little darling had long legs like yours, and MAYBE if you'd think to hold your child's hand, or even push your child in a stroller, they could very easily keep up with you.

My child is an adult. I absolutely remember the falls and scrapes and bruises when she was a child. My recent memory of her lying in a hospital bed after a car accident, came rushing back today. You just never stop being a mom. Your connection to what other moms are going through is so keen. Maybe it’s because you know that grace prevailed so much in your own experience. You want your own child safe, whole and healthy, and you want that for other moms, too. When there's an accident or tragedy, with someone else's child--whether you know the parents or not-- you feel it.

I phoned my big sister to update her. She told me that she has instructed her grandchildren not to move nor touch the car doors until the car is parked, she is out, and has instructed them which side of the street to cross, and when. Even when children are in a familiar environment, where their freedom of movement shouldn't pose a problem, we still have to be ever vigilant and even firm, if it means saving their little lives. Children and adults alike have to recognize that a moving vehicle is not a toy! It amazes me when I see people defiantly sashaying in the street in front of cars, and almost daring drivers to stop or yield. God did a fine job creating us, but he did not equip us with bumpers. Some people seem to labor under the misapprehension that people are always going to do the right thing, behave the proper way, or respond favorably. Some arrogant pedestrians need to wake up. Every driver, as was proven today, is not equipped with good sense, morals, good judgment, good eyesight, reflexes, or quick reaction time. There are people behind the wheels of vehicles who have criminal records, serious psychiatric histories, or no license to drive. Pedestrians may have the right-of-way, but it would seem that one would rather be alive and wrong, than dead and right. 

There may very well be a human being OPERATING the vehicle, but what if the vehicle malfunctions? It should always occur to a pedestrian that every vehicle on the road may not be equipped with the best anti-lock brakes--or any brakes at all. You may see a car, but the driver, operating the vehicle barreling toward you, may not see you. The driver may have every intention to slow down or stop. Question is, "Can they"? No. "WILL they?"

I'm still getting updates about little Maurice. The doctors at Children's are going to try and manipulate his broken bones back into place, as an alternative to surgery. Fortunately his neck and head seem to be okay, but there's a nasty bump marring his cute face. I think the most powerful sight today was that of his father, standing beside his hospital bed. Thank God for men who are committed to being there—consistently—for their children.

I felt better as my daughter and I left the hospital. I'm glad that we were able to go and be of some kind of comfort to our friends. And yes. I'm praying for whomever struck little Maurice Hall today on Galveston Street, SW. 

I'm not angry, or praying the King David "sick 'em, Lord" variety prayer, but just praying that the driver be comforted, too. He or she could be an inherently good person who is just afraid, badly shaken, and beating up on themselves right this minute. The continual state of not knowing the outcome of one's own actions can be tormenting. Right now, hours later, they may be wondering, as they close their celebration with their own mom, "Did I accidentally kill someone's child today?"
I'm praying that the good, that God is excellent about gleaning from every situation, is revealed to my friends.

It's been quite a Mothers' Day.