Sometimes a miracle unfolds right in front of you and you don’t even know it.

When he fell out of the tree, I missed it.

Our two-year-old Cruz was throwing a tantrum. A loud, wailing tantrum in the house with me, but the sudden scream from the backyard pierced that.

As a mother you know.

There are happy screams. Mad screams. Scared screams. And then there are the wounded screams.

Before I realized I was running, I was running. We met at the back door, six-year-old G2 collapsing in my arms on the threshold. I laid him down on the tile, kneeling beside him, yelling for my son-in-law Drew who was somewhere in the yard poisoning gophers.

“I fell out of the tree! The top of the tree!” G2 wailed, holding his head and crying like crazy.

It couldn’t have been the top of the tree. A fall like that could kill him. Yet G2 insisted he was at the top when the branch broke.

“Let’s get some ice,” said Drew in a calm, soothing voice. A half hour later, Drew was still patiently holding ice on G2’s head. Scratches on G2’s forehead, cheek, arms, and the tops of his bare little feet where he said he hit the branches on the way down proved his story.

When Drew and I finally walked out to inspect the tree awhile later, we were both shocked. “No way,” said Drew upon seeing the break at the top of the tree. He picked up the limb on the ground and, by eyeballing it, matched it to the break about 20 feet high. I was too horrified to say much of anything. Seeing how far he’d fallen prompted me to load G2 into the car for a visit to my aunt, a longtime emergency room nurse.

Since then, I’ve spent the past several nights waking G2 up every few hours to check his pupils. Telling him I love him again and again and feeling so grateful our little boy is here in one piece to return my hugs. I felt this way after Luke’s car accident in October. Thankful. Humble. And lost as a mother.

Because I’m not in control.

People are not in control.

There are things bigger, stronger, and fiercer than human beings.

Like gravity.

And tragedy.

Do you have a hard time swallowing this?

That we are not in control?

I do.

Most of my life, I was told I was in control. That I was the captain of my own ship. That it was up to me to make or break my own life. After all, God helps those who help themselves, right?

At 33 years old, I read the Bible straight through for the first time. At 34, I read it again. The whole Bible. And at 35, 36, and 37 I read the Bible in a year, then took a few years to deeply study sections of the Bible, and in my forties, am back to doing the Bible in a year again.

Do you know what the Bible really teaches? God helps the helpless. “For you have been a defense for the helpless, a defense for the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shade from the heat…” Isaiah 25:4. And Romans 5:6 says, “For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.” 

As a mother of seven children many days I feel helpless. There is only one of me. And my children have so many needs.

So I pray. God is able when I am not able. Which is so often that I am not able to be there for all my kids.

I’ve had people shame me for this. Again and again shame me for having so many children. As if I’m breeding bacteria to destroy planet earth.

“But how can you love all those children?” I’ve been asked by well-meaning people. And just plain mean people. “How do you provide for all of them?” As if shopping at thrift stores and dressing our kids in hand-me-downs and teaching them how to work on our farm is child abuse.

Where were you when G2 was climbing that tree? What kind of mother are you? You can’t even take care of your little ones. You can’t keep them safe…

These thoughts batter my mind and heart as I return to bed after checking G2’s pupils in the middle of the night. And I lay there awake wondering if G2’s brain is bleeding. And I’m scared. And I’m tired.

Always tired.

Last week was the flu. The week before that, ____ fill in the blank. It’s always something.

Isn’t this true? It’s always something… Something stealing our sleep? Stealing our peace? Stealing our joy and our value and our worth?

Am I a bad mom because I’ve had all these kids? Kids who fall out of trees? And get in car accidents? And get ringworm?

“Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from him” Psalm 127:3. 

“It is vain for you to rise up early, to retire late, to eat the bread of painful labors; For he gives to his beloved even in his sleep. Behold children are a gift from the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.” From Psalm 127.

The Bible gives me comfort. Each day when I pick it up, it comforts me. Quiets the noise in my life. The lies in my life. The Bible shows me God’s truth. Children are a blessing from the LORD the Bible assures me.

“I’m sorry I can’t always be there for you when you need me,” I tell my kids. “But Jesus is there for you. God will never leave you. You are never alone. Jesus is always with you.”

After I place my hand on the bump on G2’s head and pray for his healing as I tuck him into bed, he says to me in his sweet little boy voice, “Jesus was with me in the tree.”

“After you fell, when you were hurt, Jesus was with you?” I ask.

“No, in the tree before I fell, Jesus was with me,” G2 insists.

And I think about this: Jesus in the tree with G2 when I wasn’t there.

Before the fall~ Jesus. After the fall~ Jesus. When I’m a good mom, Jesus. When I fail as a mom, Jesus. My joy, my value, and my worth all are in Jesus.

The miracle of G2 not being seriously injured or worse in this fall… Jesus. Had G2 been seriously injured or worse in this fall… Jesus.

Jesus holds my children.

And He holds me.

And He holds you.

“The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms” Deuteronomy 33:27.

This photo was taken a couple years ago. My daughter posted it on facebook yesterday.