Hold on tight.

I was a piano teacher for 4 years or so. I guess I'll be starting it up again soon. I taught this little red-haired boy with a constellation of freckles across his cheeks. I told him about the owls in our trees at the old house we were renting and about 20 minutes after I'd sent him home, he came back to the door and told me the biggest one was clearly visible. He'd been standing under the tree all that time searching. I actually hadn't seen them yet, only heard them. The great horned owl stood two or three feet tall on his thick branch, glowering at me. We could only find him by looking for the speckles of white and yellow on his tummy. When it got close to Christmas time - about 12 days before Christmas - we started getting presents on our doorstep every night. John was working 18-20 hour days delivering all the crap people ordered at the last minute for Christmas, so I was often alone or he'd just gotten home and those nightly presents appearing at the door became a sanity for us. I also taught the little boy's two sisters and one day the little one slipped and said just a bit too much and I knew it was their family being sneaky. The last day we found a nativity set. We'd left a card labeled "For the Elves" on the porch for them, telling them what a hard time we'd had that Christmas and that their present made it bearable. We were looking a the cute little nativity when there was another hurried knock and scurry at the door. We opened it to find an envelope that read, "Merry Christmas." Inside we found $200. Johnny and I couldn't even speak, we just cried and held each other. Now we could pay our gas bill.
Today I learned that the same little boy was mowing the lawn on their riding mower. He didn't see his little two-year-old brother wander in front of the mower. The little one became trapped underneath it. He was life-flighted to the hospital and will need surgeries. What could I do to help them? His mom had brought dinner for us with her to pick up the kids from lessons a few times. They were always helping us. What do you give, what can you say to someone who is experiencing that? There are no words, no right flowers, no correct gifts, no cards with just the right nauseating little poem inside. But, I had to do something. I gave them a pear scented candle and a card expressing how much we care about them, offering to help them however they need. It seemed horrifically not enough. And I hadn't seen them for a year. All I kept imagining was how his mother felt, how her insides must have jarred, her emotions choking her, pain shooting through her at the thought that all her fears were realized on the lawn. Her baby. How I would feel if my sweet, precious child were trapped beneath so many blades and my other child was ashen and terrified at the accident. How was she strong enough? I just pray that God will wrap them up inside himself and find a place for them to heal. For my student to forgive himself and never say "what if." I fiercely hope that one day I can be such a mother as she. Fathoms of strength yet to be revealed.