The Eye Thing (Part Two): Tender Mercies

"Mom, I’m scared.”

Grant’s voice surprised me. He’d been huddled on the sofa for two days, cocooned in the down comforter from his bed. Still. Quiet. Not normal for my son.

I dropped a super-size stack of jeans on a nearby chair and sat down. “What are you scared of, Grant? Can you tell me?”

“I’m scared that I won’t be able to see, Mom,” he said. “How will I drive a car? Or play sports? Or read, with just one eye?” he asked. “It hurts. It’s not getting better.”

Truth was, I was worried, too. Grant had a corneal abrasion. The emergency room doctor told us his vision would improve in a day or so. Yet Grant was still on the sofa. The light made his eye water, his head hurt like mad, and his vision remained a hazy blur.

We'd called an ophthalmologist and scheduled an appointment for Monday.But it hurt to see him hurt.

I pulled the comforter back and ran my hands over Grant's thick hair. The area around his eye was puffy, soft, and purple.

“May I pray for you, Grant?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mom,” he said. “Will you pray?”

I put my arms around Grant and prayed. Silently. Out loud. I prayed for healing and restoration. For his emotion and future. For God's provision and peace. When I finished, I sat beside Grant, while he drifted off to sleep. I’d forgotten how his lashes made a dark, thick arc when his eyes closed. How his hand settled under the curve of his jaw when he slept. I admired his peace - a rare moment of not striving to prove or accomplish or become.

Then, I covered Grant with an afghan from the closet, kissed his forehead, and quietly shut the door.

The next morning, Grant emerged from his couch cocoon.I heard him before I saw him, and I knew that things had improved.

 "Hey, Mom," he called from the stairs. "It's better today!" He bounded into the kitchen, hair standing in wild tufts.

 "Yeah, well you still look like you've been in a fight," I teased.

"Really, Mom?" he asked. Then he smiled. Big. "Hey, do I look like I won?"

 My boy was back. Sweet relief. Welcome home.

Things continued to get better for Grant. On Monday, the doctor reported that he was healing. A week away from the court, and he'd be good as new.

As for me, I was in awe of God's goodness. Not only had He healed Grant, but He'd taken a tough situation and brought blessing for me, too. The opportunity to pray for my teen. To hold him close. To quietly meet his needs.

Isn't that just like our Father?

Churning out tender mercies for a Mama and her son.