For most people in my town, the streets surrounding the complex of the VA hospital, Childrens Hospital and University Hospital, are just pavements leading to destinations. Just gray roads that serve one purpose, to allow a traveler to get from point A to point B.
But to me? These roads are always , and I mean ALWAYS, a journey of remembrance. Sad, funny, happy, scary, and unbelievable things happened in the buildings that line up along the streets that I drive upon.
The street that leads to the Hospital that housed the Aids clinic that I traveled to weekly for years, watching the tubes of blood being drawn, waiting for results that would show a good report ........ watching the sad faces of the nurses as they studied the crazy lady who believed miracles still happen.... and the day that the results came back negative...... NEGATIVE! after three years of positives...... the faces of the nurses now looking at the mom who never gave up hope and now had the results that said her child didn't need to come back there ever again, because a disease that is 'irreversible" just disappeared from the bloodstream of a child that should have had a death sentence.
Around the curve to the building where a young foster mom went to pick up a new born baby whose mother was being led out another door in handcuffs, taken back to her prison cell as soon as she was safely through the birth of her child. The road leads around another bend where the parking garage stands, where that same foster mom took that baby and hurridly got him dressed in pretty 'welcome home' clothes while sitting in her car. What a day of sadness for a mom who would never know her child, but a day of fun for a foster mom dressing a real life doll to take home to love and pass along for hugs from eager sisters and brothers who were waiting for the new arrival.
Back up the street to the MRI building where a 2 year old little girl was lain, asleep with the aid of medicine to find out why her little leg and arm did not seem to know what to do, how to move, how to bend and strongly allow the little girl to walk and run like she should. Sadness to hear that a stroke that occured before her birth had caused these limbs to be limp and useless. Up the road the building where two years of physical therapy came twice a week , tiring times for the little girl and her busy mom. But today 17 years later I drive by those two buildings and laugh at those results knowing that the same little girl can walk, run , dance and move with no remnants of any of those early years of Physical therapy.
My face turns up at the tallest tower building and remember my friend Linda and I pacing, talking , praying and waiting for her little girl to come out of one of many many heart surgeries, I look up and remember how tiny the 8 year old seemed , how completey white her face was, her fingertips blue with the eerie blue around her lips..... I remember thinking this is recovery? But when the doctors have shut the blood flow down for so long to do all the repair that is needed it takes a long time for the skin and nailbeds to look like they are supposed to look. My friend, such a precious woman, but with no relationship or even knowledge of the ONE who made her, had enough sense to know if her little girl's life was on the line, in this one last ditch effort to finally fix her heart, call someone who knew Him , the One who made the little girl. " come and do what ever it is you do " , she said to me , " because I dont know God but I know you do and I know He listens" Through the prayers we shared over her little one, she came to know Him in a way most people never do, truly with total trust even with no 'book learnin' about Him. Just simple faith that He listens to those He knows. That building is extra special to me, for the childs healthy recovery and for a friend who found Him before her own young death.
Oh around another corner, here comes the Emergency Room...... with nine boys the trips there are numerous! Not to say only the boys ended there, but they sure had the majority rule on trips! The 2 year old with a broken leg ( who knew slides could break legs) , the broken wrist, the broken hand......... the stitches, the major league home run ball hit through my sons mouth...... so many trips to the ER and yet , no major life long injuries and no deaths. For a mom who made so many trips there , that is a cause for great thanksgiving.
Oh my gosh in the top floor of that tower stands the NICU unit. Neonatal Intensive Care..... one of the scariest places on earth. Little human beings so tiny that you can not believe they are real. Their skin is like wax paper, so frail that you know if you breath hard on them it will just flake away. Hissing machines that breath for them, needles stuck in so many places with tubes and tubing that it seems they are held together with wires and tubes. There are no faces in this place..... only masks, which means no smiles, just eyes that show the sadness or hope, or in the case of some parent, devastation. I remember picking up my 2 pound son, finally , at 3 and a half months old...... a whopping almost 4 pounds by then. He was so stiff like a plastic doll, his little body being used to only laying flat for so long in that plastic box that held his life....... and thinking how can he survive at all ? I stare up at that tower 21 years later and the smile of thanksgiving that breaks across my face is for the memory of that same child , this morning towering over me at 6'4" , healthy, happy, productive and filled with a love for me that I still cant quite understand. How did that little frail human become so strong and so filled with love? Miracles, miracles that started in the scariest place on earth.
That building over there....... the surgical unit where my 16 month old struggled to come back to life after the medicine meant to keep her asleep during surgery , almost kept her asleep for eternity....... such a long day waiting to hear if she would ever wake up.... fear that when she did she might never be herself again, and yet 16 years later she is healthy with no side effects or memories of that scary day.
AWWWW the smokers hut , where even the non smokers gathered to keep warm, needing to be with other parents in the middle of the night, when the rest of the city slept, not knowing that we gathered there, stealing away from our kids rooms to catch our breath, cry together, share our stories and just breath for a minute..... some of us knowing we would take our children home with stitches and tubes, but others knowing they were here until they would leave alone, while their children left in the back of a long black car..... the instant friendship and fellowship of scared , confused, angry parents, who still were in shock that this huge complex would become such a big part of our lives....... there were good times there in the wee hours of the mornings, and some of the faces of those parents are still etched deeply in my mind.... but again, I remember those nights with thanksgiving because the children I had in those hospital beds all came home healthy and well.
I know these buildings from the outside , in.... the tunnels, the elevators, the parking garages, the cafeterias, the blood labs, the surgical units , I could take you through blindfolded, and yet every single child I entered with is alive and well..... how could these streets be anything but a pilgrimage of extreme thankfullness! Of humble gratitude? Of remembering a God who walked with me and touched each child I carried in and out of there?
These buildings hold more history for my family than most buildings in town. Without the healing touch of the doctors and nurses, without the encouragement of the staff, without the prayers whispered and shouted, my house would have been so very different.
So no matter how many time I drive down these streets, it is never ordinary. It is never done without thought, never in a state of mindlessness.......... instead it is always a pilgrimage of thanksgiving. Alway every building is gazed at with a feeling of awe, of humble joy, of a remembrance that the ONE who made me gave me so much in every building I pass.
TJ
2010
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