Perspective

The other night Reagan was not well. She was terribly congested and her breathing sounded somewhat labored. We would have been more concerned, but the doctor told us she was just suffering with a common cold. The only thing we could do for her was comfort her and try to keep her upright. We got her to sleep around 11:00. At 12:30 she started crying. Hubby decided to get up with her. I don't think she stopped crying till 6:00. While I wasn't the one up with her, trying to comfort her, I didn't get much sleep either.

At 5:30 I heard it faintly. The helicopter. We live less than one block from the hospital. When I was in the hospital when Reagan was born, you could look out the window in my room and see our house. This also means we live less than one block away from the landing pad for the medical helicopter. It doesn't land here all that often. Maybe a couple times a month. When it does, we know. At 5:30, I got out of bed and watched as the landing lights flickered across our backyard, danced across the street, and spotted the landing pad. Police cars blocked any traffic through the parking lot near the landing pad. The blades stopped turning and black silhouettes of hospital personnel ran back and forth past spotlights. A gurney was guided quickly to the open doors of the helicopter. Someone was not well.

I always stop what I am doing to watch when it lands. I feel a funny connection. I was life flighted as an infant due to a serious illness. Clearly I don't remember this event, but I am guessing my parents would tell you it was terrifying to watch them hurry me off to a landing pad. Helicopters aren't used unless they are really needed desperately. I can't imagine the shock and the fear that must have filled them as they watched their tiny little girl become the center of such frenzied and emergent care.

Crying babies aren't so much fun. Getting very little sleep isn't so much fun. Having a daughter with a bad cold isn't so much fun. I crawled back in bed at 6:00, Reagan fell asleep with Daddy in the recliner, and I prayed a prayer.

Lord, thank you for reminding me that just when I think I can't go on or that things couldn't be any worse, I really don't have it that bad. Thank you that my worst discomfort is losing one night of sleep. Thank you that Reagan is well enough to cry and make lots of noise. Thank you that Reagan only has a common cold and is not so sick that I have to watch her get life flighted. And Lord, whoever is in that helicopter, guide them to peace.