What I Signed Up For?

I signed up to be a part of 31 Days of Writing for the month of October. Cool, huh? 

I DID NOT sign up for the shocking, life-shaking loss of my firstborn son, Steffan, only 24 years old.

Funny how life has a way of allowing us to experience some adventures we are eagerly looking forward to, then shattering our hearts into a million, jagged, broken pieces of those "never want to experience this" pangs. This is where I am today.

It all began a week ago today when my phone rang and on the other end of the line I heard my second-born, Rustin, crying and screaming, "Where's Dad, Mom? Where's Dad!!!" A call in the wee hours of the morning in that context shook me to my core and I knew something was wrong. He arrived at our home and fell out of his truck, trembling in fear, "I'm sorry, Momma! I'm sorry!!!" I held him tightly in my arms praying and doing my best to console him as the story began to unfold. The most ugly story I've ever been told. He had heard his brother scream...and then nothing.

Mind you, we're ten to eleven hours away from Louisiana where my eldest lives. We waited to hear he was alive when someone found him. We waited to hear if he made it until the paramedics arrived.  We waited to hear that he made it to the hospital. Then more waiting. Prognosis. Outlook. We waited. 

There were no satisfactory answers for us. Somewhere in the middle, as the scene unfolded, we mindlessly packed our bags and began the long trek to Louisiana in anticipation of being there when he awoke from surgeries and to be there for a season during recovery. 

We were physically moving in time, yet time stood still. As we traveled toward our son, we found ourselves again holding our breath...and waiting as they life-flighted him to a hospital that might be able to help him in New Orleans. While on the outside he looked pretty good considering the accident, he had massive internal injuries. The doctors said it would be a miracle if he even survived through the flight, and he did. Driving. Waiting. Praying. Still.

Then the call came...his sweet wife's voice told us the ugly truth. On the other end of the line I heard, "He's gone. We lost him."

Our world halted to a stop. Wait, we didn't sign up for this part! There were no words. We were in shock. This was not how it was supposed to turn out. This isn't how our story was supposed to go. After all, it was our youngest's 21st birthday that day. We were supposed to be celebrating life, not looking death in the face. What a birthday! What tragedy had enveloped our lives. It began to rain outside. The bright sunshiny day we had traveled in seemed to be in mourning with us. It rained so hard. My tears also fell hard. Shattered pieces of my heart fell hard too. How? Why? So many questions.

So, instead of arriving and watching, helping our boy through to a successful recovery. We arrived to see our boy alright...instead of a hospital bed, his body lay on a table, cleaned up but still in a hospital gown, draped in a brown covering. This mamma's heart screamed inaudibly broken completely in two. This isn't what I signed up for. It's not supposed to be like this! I held his lifeless hand, placed my trembling hand upon his chest in hopes of feeling that fain heartbeat...

You see, it's not about what we sign up for. Life happens to us all. The good, the bad, the ugly...life is no respecter of persons. It rains on the just and unjust alike. No, my story wasn't supposed to go like this; but the Author of my story still holds the pen in His Almighty hand and I trust Him for His will in my life. No, this isn't what I signed up for, but somehow deep within this hurting heart, I trust Him to know best. He holds my world in His hand. 

No, I probably won't write for thirty-one days this year after all, it's taken me a couple days to write this, but that's alright because there is plenty being written on my heart. The Author, my Peace Speaker and Comforter, is busy writing a new chapter and I fully intend to be a part of it. I don't know how yet, but I know I will see it, as God turns this ugly chapter into something so much more. 

You see, I have this consolation that I'll see my son again one day. I cannot hold him on this side any longer, but one day, after a while...

I'm back in my home now, taking one breath at a time, taking one day at a time, trusting my very life in the hands of the Lord. I know it won't be easy, but I know God is faithful. He's shown Himself in so many, many ways and continues to do so daily. He is our strength when we're weak. He's our shelter in the time of storm. He is close to those who have a broken heart. He is the Rock I stand upon. The prop that keeps me upright. 

We are in His hands, He loves me and is writing my story - and...

THAT IS WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR!

Please keep our family in your prayers during this time of bereavement.  

In loving memory of our son,

Steffan Russell Hardesty

November 20, 1992 - September 27, 2017