I call it Blue Monarch Whiplash: “I’m happy. I’m sad. I’m glad. I’m mad.”All of these can happen within just minutes of one another.
Our amazing on-site, on-call staff members, who bear the load of our entire community on the weekends and holidays, send the rest of us a report on Sunday evenings to give a heads up about what we’re walking into Monday morning. I often think of it as a message from the trenches. (Can you imagine being solely responsible for so many women and children, just ready to jump in the case of an emergency? I admire and appreciate them so much!)
A recent weekend report was such a great example of the vast range of issues, problems to solve, and raw Blue Monarch life:
- Courtney had to go to her room because Creedence was throwing up.
- All the moms stayed under budget at the grocery store. Yay!
- Three of the kids got into a fight in the kitchen - check the cameras at 2:54 on Saturday. Tricia, you may want to follow up with the moms on how they handled it.
- Nesha is doing great with her one-on-one time with Zeke - she's so sweet with him!
- Hayli's dad didn't answer when we called him on her birthday.
- Lateisha was late getting back from pass because her cousin was shot and killed.
We are accustomed to the constant ups and downs, but this was really intensified recently when we experienced the best and the worst within just a few days.
It was a Monday evening, and I was chopping onions in my kitchen. Deanna called and I assumed she was calling with details about an upcoming graduation. But she said one of our former graduates had been in a terrible car accident and she was okay, but her six-year-old son had been killed.
I immediately had flashbacks to a photo of Grayson holding two of our blue chicken eggs after gathering them with some of the other kids. He was always such a blur when I saw him because he was usually running to the next adventure and rarely sitting still. His mom had graduated from our program nine months earlier, and they had lived in our WINGS graduate community for just a short time after. Life had not been easy for her since they left, but we had stayed in touch and would occasionally see her at church or daycare.
Curiously, I continued methodically chopping onions through tears as I heard more of the details over the phone. I suppose I needed to do something normal because the moment was so abnormal.
I shoved everything across the counter, shut off the stove, and asked my husband to put everything away so I could quickly grab my things and go to the mom. There were so many questions, and I knew this incident would end up in my “Why, Lord?” file, which was already pretty thick.
The accident had taken place on the interstate and diverted traffic was bumper to bumper for miles on the highway. It struck me how many people could be affected when there was a tragedy like this. Schedules delayed, appointments missed, but nothing compares to the loss of a child.
Deanna rushed to the scene of the accident and picked up Savannah. I begged her to avoid seeing Grayson. Many years ago, I found a little girl on the side of the road who had just been killed and I knew what it took to recover from such a vivid memory. Time is only a part of that recovery recipe.
We decided to meet at a nearby truck stop and by the time I got there, Jeannie and Tricia were also there, looking a little stunned, with tears in their eyes. This heartbroken mom was in the back seat of Deanna’s car, jeans dirty and stained with blood, her feet scratched and bare. I grabbed her around the neck and we both cried like babies. When she caught her breath, I held her face in my hands and looked into her eyes at the pain for which there are no words, a picture I will never forget. “I am so sorry” seemed ridiculously inadequate for what she had just been through - every parent’s worst nightmare.
Savannah kept saying, “I can’t stop seeing him in my head. I can’t stop seeing him.” And when she described in graphic detail what that meant, I had to wonder how she would ever forget that image. I felt sure I would never forget hearing it. She described how onlookers stood around watching as she held her son and I could only imagine the trauma they had experienced as well. Apparently, a kind man offered to help, and she asked him to get her phone out of the car. He brought it to her still playing worship music, which probably seemed completely out of place in the midst of such a horrific scene.
We decided to take Savannah to the hospital to make sure she was okay, and she agreed. Over the next few hours, she was repeatedly asked by everyone who entered the room, “Where does it hurt?” I wanted to scream, “It hurts all over, okay! It hurts all over!” But after two hours in a neck brace waiting on results from an x-ray, she was released with a few Band-Aids to continue her life as if everything was back to normal.
Naturally, we needed to help Savannah navigate the days ahead. But I was also concerned about the mothers and children at Blue Monarch who knew this family well. My word, how would we tell them? And how would our staff function with such broken hearts?
The next day we asked a couple of therapists to help us process this tragedy with our moms and also our kids. I can honestly say, in twenty-one years, nothing has impacted our entire community like the loss of this child. Each mother was devastated, even the ones who didn’t know Savannah at all. And the kids’ reactions were just as intense.
The therapists invited our kids to express how they felt, and they were assured those feelings and responses were normal, (even though they were across the board - everything from intense anger to uncontrollable giggles that quickly turned into uncontrollable tears.) And their reactions switched places as if they were all taking turns with each emotion and some of their questions were quite profound. All the kids who knew Grayson well said they wanted to attend his funeral, which surprised me.
Realizing that Savannah didn’t get up that morning knowing she would lose her son, I was afraid every mom in the room would live in fear over the same thing. And I was concerned every child would think he or she could die in a car accident, too. Sure enough, those thoughts were going through their heads, and it was good to have the professionals talk it through with them.
So, over the next week we prepared for a Blue Monarch graduation while we also prepared for a six-year-old’s funeral. Blue Monarch Whiplash on steroids.
We were determined to find the strength to celebrate the amazing achievements of Hadassah, Courtney, and Cheyenne, despite our broken hearts, and I believe we did so. It was one of the best graduations we have ever had. Perhaps what we had just experienced intensified the significance of their accomplishments and our need for something positive.
The very next day we celebrated Grayson, whose life was too short. His Blue Monarch buddies marched up to the casket one by one and delivered drawings they had done for him, and some of his friends from school came to pay their respects as well. He was honored in a beautiful way that touched the hearts of every person in the room and his mom found the strength to deliver some sweet words about her son as well. Can’t imagine what it took for her to do that.
Naturally, this tremendous loss will challenge Savannah’s recovery like nothing else. As Pastor Kevin said, “It will make you bitter – or it will make you better.” We pray this painful tragedy becomes the defining moment that completely changes Savannah’s life, and the lives of her other two children, and if she leans on God for strength, it will make her better. I feel sure that’s what Grayson would want.
So, I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m glad, I’m mad. But most of all, I’m grateful for my Blue Monarch family as we live through every mountaintop and valley together. After all, that’s what family is all about.
Joshua 24:15 sums it up pretty well. “But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” And may I add, "even when it hurts all over."
*****
Lord, please let this rock bottom moment bring life-changing healing for this family. Amen
