When band-aids can't fix boo-boo's.

Last night after Brandon had two seizures, Matt from his room upstairs texted me while I was downstairs in my room with Brandon.

He simply asked:

"Mom whats wrong with him ?"

That's exactly how he typed it.

It broke my heart.

And as I laid there beside a raspy-breathing Brandon, I wondered what to text back to my sweet son who was supposed to be sleeping, not worrying about his brother's seizures.

This son who in Elementary School, started off one day with the ambulance getting to our house right before the bus did because his brother broke his collar bone during a seizure.

This son who in Middle School called the ambulance for us while Todd was giving CPR to a not-breathing Brandon after we found him unconscious & blue in the back yard from a seizure.

This son who while in class in High School, I had to call to come help me get his brother out of the van and into the house because he had a seizure on the way to me driving him to school and I couldn't get him out  once I got back home.

Never once during those times did he verbalize what he must have been thinking then too.

But tonight, he asked the question that I could not answer.

Oh how much easier it was when Matt was little and could only ask questions I knew the answers to!

Oh how much easier it was when Matt was little and the boo-boo's not too big for band-aids!

When a scraped knee could be made better with a kiss.

When broken toys could be glued back together.

When someone was bullying him and all it took to solve that was a phone-call.

I remember when stitches fixed his cut skin, surgery fixed his severed thumb, and a cast fixed his broken bone.

And I remember a time not a few years after that, when there wasn't such a procedure to fix his first broken heart.

All I could do then was hold him and hug him.

And then the present, last night, and the text message.

"Mom whats wrong with him ?"

I laid there and thought about how Mom's & Dad's are indeed, supposed to be able to fix anything.

We are supposed to know all the answers to all the "why's" our children ask us.

But I guess there comes a point when we have to answer the "why's" with the "who's".

I don't know why you have a broken heart; but I know the One who will always love you unconditionally and who will never leave you or forsake you.

I don't know why bad things happen to good people; but I know the One who has a plan for you and who will prosper you and never, ever, hurt you.

I don't know why there are no answers for your brothers seizures; but I know the One who because of His very sovereignty, is the only answer we need to accept and have faith in for now.

I won't know the answers to the "why's" you will no doubt ask in the future; but I know the One who created you.  Who knit you together in your mother's womb, who has searched you and who knows you and your thoughts as well as all the days ordained for you before even one of them came to be.

And I know that because of  that, we don't have to always know the answer to what is wrong.

We just have to remain steadfast in knowing that one day all those wrongs will be made right.