Chapter 4: A Son Of Thunder Returns From The Battlefront

Oct 14, 2009 by

There are scars, but time heals.

The important thing is the middle Son of Thunder is back on familiar grounds.  He is home. This battle ends.

He was greeted with a sign and balloons at the gate; with big smiles from his two comrades-in-arms, the other two Sons of Thunder.  And off they went to celebrate the victory in true warrior style.  There was Gatorade to drink, cupcakes to eat and new movies to watch.  An age-appropriate warrior celebration so to speak.

And the Little Black Dress is home.  And that always makes everyone smile.  The clan is reunited.

We will reminisce, review the high points, in a future post.

For now, we simply say thanks.

I am a “word” person. It’s my craft. Right now, I am wordless.  For that, I apologize, but know my heart.

I have learned that unless you can actually name every single person, it’s best to not try. And I can’t, because there are too many and they are spread across the country.

To the students and teachers in his class and school, who sent cards and prayers.

Thank you.

To the doctors and nurses in our hometown of Grove, who while the Son was under their care, did everything humanly possible. They simply smiled, regardless of the rather choice words thrown at them from the middle Son, and did their job. Who adapted, who changed course as necessary, who did their profession proud.

Thank you.

To the EMTs who transported our Son to Tulsa, despite his refusal to let go of the bed rails. And somehow got him to sleep during that ride for the first time in more than 30 hours.

Thank you.

To a wide host of nurses, residents, doctors and surgeons and everyone else at the Children’s Hospital at St. Francis in Tulsa.

They swarmed over the Son, they studied, they tested, they took CAT Scans and blood and injected medicine and operated and … the list is endless.  Who never stopped, who never quit, who also took some rather pointed verbal attacks from the Son. Who cared.

Thank you.

To those who joined us in prayer.

Countless people prayed for him after his name was put on a prayer wall in Juneau, Alaska; others prayed while dipping strawberries in chocolate for a wedding; school kids – on their own – took a secret minute at his public school to pray; some read this blog, people we didn’t know, and prayed; my parents prayed, I prayed, the Sons prayed.

To those who joined us in prayer from Grove to Florida to Georgia to Alaska and every point in between. To those who never stopped praying, to those who just stopped for a moment to pray. To those who e-mailed friends, to way too many people to mention.

Thank you.

To the God of the Universe.

And by “God” I mean Jehovah.  And His one and only son, Jesus Christ.  Who, when Death entered, simply said, “No.” And I would have so wanted to watch that conversation. Because I know He added, “I have plans for this one. So no, Death, not today. So go away.” And there would have been a pause, with Death lingering, pushing all the “yeah, buts” he could, anything to change the course. And God would, very simply, say, “I AM.”

And that would, and did, end that.

Thanks God. I don’t think any of us say that enough; just thank God for being God and keeping the earth on the right orbit.  But God, seriously, thanks.

To the Little Black Dress.

Who has speed dial. And used it. And got upset because she forget or missed some mighty prayer warrior or some dear friend somewhere, and was concerned about hurting their feelings.

Who knew, to use the SoTs’ favorite analogy, that there was a disturbance in the Force. Who knew something was not right with her middle warrior. Who was not impressed at all with the alphabet soup letters following the name of some surgeon or doctor or whatever.

Who would simply look some “expert” in the eye with that LBD look and say, “That’s not good enough.”

I’ve gotten that look before. You know, once or twice, maybe. Maybe. But I can say one enjoyable time out of this was watching someone else get the “LBD Look.”  Bunch of sissies.

Who, one week ago today and late at night when things just suddenly seemed to explode, knew it was time. Who simply looked at me and said, “we need to pray. Now.”

Who is a mighty prayer warrior. Like her mother.

Who, along with Jehovah God, is why my mighty little warrior will live to fight another day.

Thank you.

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5 Comments

  1. Juneaufriend

    So glad you’re all home, now please excuse me while I get some kleenex…it’s a good cry, may not be a pretty one. Love to you and your beautiful family.

    • No need for kleenex. Just walk out on that incredible porch of yours and say, “‘thanks, God.”

      That pretty much covers it.

      Thanks for pushing the “prayer wall” in Juneau.

  2. very great news – so glad to hear SoT #2 is back home and doing well. I’ve been keeping him and your family in our prayers. it is encouraging to see your faith stay strong in a time like this!

    my2fish

  3. Dawn Redux

    Thank You God!

    I am so happy for SoT#2 & your family.
    I feel doubly blessed to read and revel in the joy of your family.
    Peace be with you all,
    SoFL Prayer Warriors