Happiness Project - What happened today...

I was planning on writing about another stair on the rung of my happiness ladder, but something has happened today. So, I am going to tell you about it and what I learned from it.

This morning I was in bed, the fog of sleep surrounding me, the light gently pouring in through the blinds, I was just barely on the cusp of wakefulness when I heard the phone ringing. It was still early, but there was an urgency in me when I heard the ring. I jumped out of bed ran down the stairs to grab the phone before it stopped. I got it.

On the phone his voice thick with gruffness was my son. He was calling from the hospital he said. He had been jumped and beaten up and had been in the hospital all night. Could I pick him up??? He was in the Oshawa Hospital. I tried to question him, did he know where exactly he was in the hospital so I would know where to get him? He didn't know, or seem to be clear at all, muffled curses streamed from his mouth. I said of course I would come. I was strangely calm.

I ran upstairs to quickly dress and wake up hubby to tell him I was going to the hospital. I also called some of my friends, for support and for their prayers.

I went to the hospital. They didn't have any record of him being there. They checked two more hospitals in the area, no one by my son's name. No John Doe's of his age or description. A coldness gripped my heart. I fought back the panic.

I went outside to make some calls on my cell. I called hubby, asked him to call the Scarborough hospitals. I called my son's girlfriend's house where he is presently staying. I am on their not favorite list now, so they did not pick up - but I left a message relaying the situation and desperately begging them to call me back it they had any information at all. A minute or so later his girlfriend's mother called me. She said they had had a message from my ex-husband that my son was in Toronto Western Hospital, I thanked her and called my hubby to call them and confirm that that was indeed where he was. And he was there. Not too long after that my son called, wondering where I was...I think he must have been concussed and confused when he called me the first time. I assured him I would come and get him.

I called my girlfriend and made arrangements for our daughter. I didn't know what condition our son would be in and didn't want her to be upset any more than she already would be knowing that he had been hurt. Thank God for my friends.

Hubby would come with me downtown, to drive in what is such unfamiliar territory and for moral support now that we had our daughter taken care of.

Another call from my son. It was taking a lot of time for us to get there and he is impatient. But you see they had closed down the express lanes and we had to detour south and pick up the Don Valley Parkway from another route.

He told me what had happened...he had gone to a club, left the club, more than rather worse for the wear. Taken a cab but realized that he did not have enough money, so the cabby made him get out of the cab. Being more than a little intoxicated he didn't see it coming - he was grabbed thrown done on the sidewalk, kicked in the face and robbed. He remembers little of that, only waking up people around him, he doesn't remember how he got to the hospital. I listen murmuring sounds of muted horror. I hate this. This is not the first time he has been beaten up. I am locked in a tunnel of calm, maybe even shock. Soon enough, we turn the corner and with him still on the phone, I tell him we are there. Hubby waits in front of the hospital, I get out and look for him. I see him and call his name. He comes towards me. His lips are badly swollen and cut, his nose is broken and bruised. We walk together to the van quietly talking.

He is safe. He is in one piece. He is alive. For this I am thankful. For this I am glad.

He makes light of the situation. "I'm only young once," he says. But at what cost is he expending this youth? This time rich with opportunity, with gifts of personality, strength of will, determination. All, I think, wasted. All his choices. For this I grieve; intensely and completely. Canyon deep, ocean wide....nothing contains this sorrow.

And yet I am able to step back. Play Pollyanna's game. I am glad that he is once again, safe, another narrow miss I think, but still it could have been much, much worse. I am glad that he has the gift of another day, another chance. I am glad we had some time together, in the van, he from the backseat, reaching over and occasionally rubbing my head, seeing that I am upset and trying to comfort me. I reaching back and patting him, reassuring him of my love. I am glad that he called me, that we connected.

I am deeply tired and sad. Yet what I have learned is that the pain we feel when we are hit by hard times is part of the happiness as a whole. We watch the suffering of those we love, whether by their own foolishness, or by life's cruel strokes, and we enter into their pain. It becomes our own. Yet we know that we cannot let the pain swallow us. If we do we too are
lost adrift on the sea. Rudderless, with no purpose. Yet purpose surely exists. There is tomorrow. A fresh new day. Full of wonders. Full of sunshine, and yes, full of storms.

I breathe in fully. My life is a gift. God-given. Each moment counted in tears and in laughter. I lift my voice in gratitude. I am here and tomorrow brings new mercies. I believe this with all of my heart. There are people to laugh with, people who willingly will also weep with me. There are people to love. Barriers to be broken down. Prayers waiting breathlessly to be answered.

There is most of all - hope.

And hope opens the door to happiness.