A few weeks ago, Esther and I spent a gorgeous spring Saturday morning celebrating a first birthday party with family friends. The baby was in the middle of smashing the birthday cake when Corbin called. I let it go to voicemail, as Esther was trying to get the perfect camera shot of the birthday girl and her parents covered in icing amidst the laughter and party guests. But when Corbin called immediately back it got my attention, “Hey, can you step outside real quick?” Making my way to the quieter backyard, Corbin said, “I think he’s going to be fine, but Branson is being taken by ambulance right now to a Trauma 1 hospital in Dallas.”
Our oldest son had woken that morning with an enlarged pupil. While not overly concerned, he knew from high school concussions to pay attention. Feeling totally normal other than his dilated eye, he showered, made a couple of phone calls, and stopped by an urgent care around the corner from his house before driving to Fort Worth for the day. He was expecting a quick fix of eye drops or a “this is no big deal” response, but when the nurse saw his eyes, he responded with “WHOA WE’VE GOT TO GET A CT SCAN OF YOUR HEAD NOW.”
To which Branson collapsed and lost consciousness.
As he came to on the floor of the urgent care, Bran called Corbin and tried to explain where he was, and Corbin said, “Bran, I can’t tell if you’re kidding.” Branson responded, “Dad, I’m sorry I’m the son who would make that your first response, but I’m absolutely lying on the floor of this urgent care.” The nurse was yelling over Bran into the phone, “Mr. Wilson!! This is serious!”
Bran was then quickly wheeled into an ambulance en route to the closest ER. And that’s when I got Corbin’s call.
What I felt during the 45 minutes that Esther drove us from Southlake into Dallas, most of it with my eyes closed and praying for my son, was the peace-giving omnipresence of God. Even in that moment, especially in that moment, I knew the Lord was with him, and that Bran would know it.
Omnipresent – Present at all places at all times
On a practical level – God is always with the people we love even when we can’t be.
When Branson was about a year and a half old, I found him choking on a round piece of candy. I don’t know how long he’d been that way, as I’d been upstairs changing a load of laundry and found him already blue in our living room. Miraculously, my meager attempt at the Heimlich maneuver was successful. But fear smothered me as I lay in bed that night, a brand-new mom, and imagined the worst. What if I would have stayed upstairs longer and not found him in time? What if the candy wouldn’t have popped out? What if, what if… I felt the Lord whisper,
“I was with him.”
And, “I will be with him.”
And, “I will be with you, I will give you the wisdom to be his mom.”
Years later when he was 16, a friend called during afternoon carpool to tell me that Branson was in a pretty bad wreck. From what she could tell Bran was ok, but the cars didn’t look good. I was a just a few blocks away, my suburban filling with middle school girls. That half mile distance from me to my son might as well have been across the world. That very morning during Moms in Prayer, our group focused on God as omnipresent – and prayed this scripture over our kiddos by name:
God, may You be Branson’s refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1
Fresh on my mind, God’s omnipresence is what swirled through my mind in the time it took to get those girls delivered to their homes while Corbin left work and got to Branson. A couple of hours later we watched him on the mound at his high school baseball game.
“I was with him.”
And, “I will be with him.”
And, “I will be with you, I will give you the wisdom to be his mom.”
So back to a few weeks ago… alert and wide-eyed in the back of the ambulance, Branson asked the young EMT exactly what was going on. “We think you may be bleeding out, maybe a stroke or aneurysm.”
“Well if that’s the case, how long do I have?”
“Of course I don’t really know, but hours, maybe minutes. We just need to get you there quick.”
Bran asked if he was a man of faith, to which the young man nodded his head, and Bran prayed aloud as they raced down Central Expressway. They arrived at the ER, wheeled him in for a CT scan, and Bran told the young female nurse by his side, “I’m only 24. I’m not ready to die.” She responded, “Yeah, that would really suck.” And if you know Branson, her candor was a comfort.
Corbin arrived about the time Bran was taken into his room after the CT scan, and upon the news of a clear scan, both felt a little emotional. Esther and I arrived shortly after, and while we were obviously grateful for no stroke or brain bleed, it opened the door to other neurological questions. In response to Branson’s questions of what this could possibly be, the emergency doc twice answered, “Possible MS or a similar neurological disorder.”
We waited several hours for an MRI, mentally and emotionally camping out on the range of possibilities.
At one point Branson said, “You know, I went to bed last night feeling totally normal, and what I really want is to go home and wake up tomorrow totally healthy.” The doc responded, “Yes, I want that for you, but I think we both know that’s probably not going to happen.”
Well. The head MRI was no joke, but also came back with good news – edema (swelling) behind the eye, which had paralyzed the optic nerve. As we pieced together what had actually happened – the night before, in a competitive game of spikeball, Bran was hit across the eyes by his friend’s forearm. It was a quick and painful pop, so much so that it made his eye tear up and Bran thought it broke his nose. But within a few minutes the pain subsided and they resumed the game. And while Branson did mention that initially to the urgent care nurse, and again in the ER, no one thought a pop like that could cause the symptoms he was experiencing. And then losing consciousness in the urgent care? Seriously – a response of fear. There’s an actual name for it, Iatrophobia, but Branson literally fainted at the nurse’s dramatic response. Which obviously then caused an even bigger flurry of concern. I am trying not to giggle as I type this, I know it’s not supposed to be funny, but since he was tiny Branson has held a fear of doctors and hospitals. Bottom line – the urgent care events formed a perfect storm for deep concern.
I certainly wasn’t giggling in the hospital that evening. Well, maybe just a bit when we realized the series of events. But a few meds and a follow up with an opthamologist and all would be well. About eight hours from Bran’s initial call, we left the hospital grateful, relieved, and exhausted. But mostly grateful.
The following day, Sunday, I moved slowly and breathed deep. Processing the what ifs, the surge of emotions… all of it boiled down to what Bran shared over dinner before we dropped him home: “Even in the ambulance, being told I possibly would not live to see the next day, I did not feel alone. I wasn’t ready to die, but if the Lord really was calling me Home, I felt His peace.”
“I was with him.”
And, “I will be with him.”
And, “I will be with you, and even now as a young adult, I will give you the wisdom to be his mom.”
Thank you, Lord, that you are everywhere all the time, especially when it means you’re with our loved ones. Thank you for giving us the ability to trust you. Amen.
Ps 139:5-10
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
Rom 8:38-39
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.