A Prayer and Letter of Thanks

August 25th, 2009

Dear God,

Boy, you sure do know how to make a girl stand up and take notice of things don’t you?

I mean, you and I have a pretty good relationship as it is, I know you’re there and I know you work in ways I don’t quite get. I try not to bug you often with trivial things. I like to think that we have an understanding about trivial things. I like to save my prayers for life and death moments; like healthy babies, heart transplants, and car accidents.

I don’t know if it was you who put that deer in the road in the cold, dark early hours last Sunday but if you did, I’m glad you paid more attention to me begging you to please let the hubs be OK as I rushed to the scene than you did to the deer.

I apologize if I start to ramble a bit in this letter of thanks but I’ve got so many things in my head that I need to get out that I hope you understand.

credit: Mateusz Stachowski

First of all, you didn’t have to give us a near death experience to make me understand just how much I love the hubs. I know.

I. KNOW.

I take him for granted from time to time. He’s rough around the edges that’s true and he’s stubborn but I can’t imagine not seeing his face every day. You could have just given me a “hypothetically speaking” experience. I didn’t need the real thing. I know he gets on my nerves and we’re both hard to live with (and sometimes I am still not sure what we’re doing together) but I feel living without him would be much, much harder. I understand that now and felt that on Sunday morning.

I felt it so deeply that it hurt to breathe. Every breath I took hurt like a dull knife lodged in my chest. I shook when I gathered up his clothes that had been cut off of his body and when he said “there’s blood on my new sneakers. They aren’t even 6 hours old”. Part of me wanted to pull him into my arms and fix him myself and the other part wanted to lay down and die because it hurt so much to see him strapped to the body board. All I could answer was that it was going to be OK and that I knew how to get the blood out. Though right now I can’t even bring myself to look at them and so they lay in the hospital bag on top of the washer.

As much as we are different, I need him. I need him yesterday, today, tomorrow, a week from now, a month, and even 10 and 20 years from now. I need him as much as I need to breathe. Thank you for letting me keep him. I know some people close to us don’t get that as stubborn and rough as he is, I want him as much as I need him; if not more so. That’s OK though. They don’t have to.

You and I know what he means to me and that’s all that matters.

I don’t want to think that you were testing me in some way (or even him). I test horribly. Always have and always will. Instead I’d like to think that you were giving me a chance to get things back in control. For his sake as much as mine. I can respect that and if that’s the message you want me to walk away from this with; no worries. I’ve taken that message and so much more.

I do think that it’s a little wrong that you chose to be so upbrupt in your lesson to me but I think that’s because there was an urgency in it that I wasn’t aware of until now. If that’s the case, I have a pretty strong handle on what the urgency was. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I wouldn’t have known without you. I wouldn’t have had a clue.

I promise to do my best to bring things back to the way they should be. I don’t want him to be broken. I don’t want us to be broken.

Broken sucks.

I’ve known hubs before I knew myself. I see the gift and glimpse you’ve given me. I won’t throw it away.

While I’m writing this and thanking you, I still need your help going forward. It will be a long road ahead for us both. I only hope that you’ll continue to give him the same strength and will keep going and you’ll grant me the strength I had these last few days as well. I’m going to need it and in so many more ways than just one.

We got lucky. I know that. I won’t ever say we didn’t. I won’t ever act like we aren’t lucky EVER AGAIN.

All my best,

Nikki

About Nichole Smith

Nichole Smith has written 311 posts on The Guilty Parent.

Founder of The Guilty Parent and Chaos in the Country (http://www.chaosinthecountry.com), Nichole is a writer, blogger, social media strategist, wife to one, mother to four and embracer of mommy guilt.

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