Sandy Lane, a local accountant and mom to three boys, wrote a guest blog for momaha.
* * *
A friend’s daughter was seriously injured in an accident the other night. As I prayed for her recovery, my heart filled with sadness for her parents. They received the call that every parent dreads. It’s my biggest fear.
My morning started with a 5-minute panic attack in trying to locate my 17-year-old. For those 5 minutes, I tried to remain calm and not think about him being in a ditch. He called me back, and all was well in the world.
No matter the age, the worry doesn’t go away. From checking on them as babies to make sure they are still breathing to worries on their decision-making Friday nights at the frat house, the worry is there. With every blaring ambulance and fire siren, I say a prayer. I think of my kids and hope that it wasn’t intended for them.
My biggest panic attacks to date revolve around the well-being of my kids. I vividly remember the panic of losing a child in a crowd. Those 3 minutes of terror thinking about the what-if’s until my precocious toddler was located. A hit to the head that resulted in a short bit of unconsciousness. The phone ringing in the middle of the night. Fear.
When Grant was 8 on a family vacation at Okoboji, Iowa, there was a span of 15 minutes that created pure panic and anxiety.
The sun had set on Lake Okoboji and it was our last night in our lakeside townhouse. That night as I visited with friends and watched our collective kids settle down, I noticed we were short Grant. I quickly figured out that no one in the room had seen him for some time. Panic.
I ran out to the bonfire. No Grant. I looked out to the boat dock on that windy night and saw our boat rocking in the waves as it hit the dock. I thought of Grant’s superhero guys he left on the boat. My heart sunk as I pictured Grant in the dark trying to get into the boat to retrieve his guys. It was pitch dark; impossible to see a little boy fallen in the turbulent waters. The ripping waves too loud to hear a scream of a fallen child.
With every minute, the panic grew like an explosion inside me. It was probably the most scared I have been during my lifetime.
After calling for help and beginning my search off the dock, a mom shouted out to me that Grant was in her room. It was pure joy to see his smiling face, safe in their room.
Some tell me this fear for my kids will never go away. Love them each and every day. Everything else is in God’s hands.
So I will pray; for the children lost too soon and those still living. Love your kids. Teach your kids. Guide your kids. Everything else is out of our hands.