The worst call

I'm really, really bad at doing this blogging thing consistently, but that's not the purpose of this post.

Recently, I was part of the something that any first responder or healthcare provider dreads, an infant full arrest.  I still haven't really processed it, I don't know that I ever fully will.  My heart breaks for the family, I grieve that we did all we could and it wasn't enough.  I don't post this for your sympathy, if anything, have sympathy for the family, pray for them.

However, recently, me and a friend have been discussing miracles, God, and assorted related things.  He shared with me a blog post he wrote about miracles in his life, The day we fell. It broke my heart, made me cry to be honest. We have had differing experiences in life, we have come to some differing conclusions, but we have both come to that place of "I don't understand"

I wrote something up that night, I hadn't slept yet, I was still reeling, I wasn't sure if I should share it or not.

But I'm going to.  This is written from a perspective of faith, shaken faith perhaps, but of faith all the same.  You don't have to agree with me, but I'm sharing this because I know I'm not the only one with these questions, struggling with the "why God?" issues this life brings.

There's some typos, and at least one curse word, but I'm going to leave it as is, just as I wrote it.  I hope it helps someone.  Above all, especially to any first responder reading this, you don't need to deal with things alone.  Don't bottle in the hurt, talk to someone, don't ignore the pain.  It's ok to not be ok

That said, here is my unedited, sleep deprived thoughts:

Miracles.

Such a loaded word.  The dead rise, crumbled bones healed, the blind see. And God does them, but only when He chooses to, and if He doesn’t, well then suck it up and believe that He had other plans that might or might not make sense, if you tilt the picture the right way.

Let me explain, I’m an EMT and a firefighter.  I’ve seen bad things happen, to good people, bad people, and everyone else.  Death, well, it sounds cold and jaded, maybe it is, but death doesn’t faze me much.  Don’t get me wrong, it sucks, and I hate it, but I’m used to it, people die, it’s part of life.  I’m not heartless, I mourn, it hits me even harder than most I think when someone close to me dies, because then all the pain, sadness, and grief that I push away day today can’t be hidden from, it comes up, hard, and smacks me around for a bit, and then I move on

But today….today was different….today someone died, in spite of everything we could possibly do, all of our combined training, our expensive equipment, none of it mattered, “it was their time to go” possibly one of my most hated true sayings of all time, especially today

Today, we were dispatched for an infant, not breathing, CPR in progress.

Those words come over the radio, everything stops.  Your adrenaline kicks into overdrive, your blood runs cold, you sprint to the ambulance, you drive as fast as you’ve ever, ever driven to get to the call….

I won’t go into details, for a few reasons, only two of which you really need to know, first, I haven’t really even processed any of it in my mind yet, I haven’t even really slept yet, and I need to sleep, but I’m so tired I’m not tired, and I wanted to write this out, I think some of our most true to us thoughts, the real honest, unfiltered true, comes out when we are tired.  Second, I really truly ethically and legally shouldn’t, it’s unfair to the family, and you really don’t need to, and don’t ever want to, know the intimate details.

Just trust me in saying that when you see CPR being performed on a tiny, tiny chest, desperate CPR, and not on a training doll, but a real, human, baby.  It changes you.  Something dies in side of you.  You beg God, the devil, anyone that will listen really, to just make it ok.  Kids, especially babies aren’t supposed to be sick, and they most certainly aren’t supposed to die.

Afterward, at the hospital, everyone is silent, everyone asking someone else if they are ok, making sure everyone collectively knows that we can talk about it if we need to, and we will, because we all know we need to, in our own time, we will deal with it, because we all know, all too well, that if we don’t, it will literally kill us.  But none of us want to right now, we all are dealing with it differently already,  one by making sure everyone else is ok, another by cleaning anything, so on so forth, anything to try to not be overwhelmed by the knowledge that a baby just died, and there was nothing we could have done differently, and there was no miracle, a healthy, loved baby just died, and we failed to stop it.

Old people die, accident victims die, drug addicts die, sick people die, babies, they grow up, they play, they cry, they giggle, they change the world, no, babies don’t die

but this one did.  And, a loving God, why, He’d swoop down and make it all ok, because babies don’t die.  That is what miracles and faith and prayer are for! Right?

Well, yes, kinda, but no

You see, babies do die, kids die everyday, all over the world, and we just don’t care, we aren’t directly impacted by it, so, I mean it’s sad, but can you imagine how crippled we would be daily if we mourned every kid that died?  It’s not a heartless thing, its just a coping thing.

But when we are personally affected, when its our kid, or a friends kid, or we are the people called to save the kid, well, then God must act! Then we demand, expect a miracle, because damn it, we believe, we have faith!

But, the kid died.

And we blame God for not providing a miracle.

Well, and this may seem kinda harsh, I suppose it really is very harsh, but it’s the cold, blunt, sleep deprived truth.  What makes you so fucking special?

Kids die, it’s not Gods plan for them to die, I won’t delve into all the deep theological discussions behind it all, but I’ll say this much to it.  It wasn’t God’s plan for that kid, or any other kid to die, it sucks, and I firmly believe that even God Himself is saddened everytime anyone dies, but beyond that, when I kid dies, an innocent, can’t even talk yet, doesn’t even know what sin or hurt yet baby dies, I think it makes God angry.

And yes, God, an all powerful loving being, could save them all.  He could reach down and grant a miracle, and every baby would live.

And it wouldn’t be a miracle, it would be the norm.

Fact is, we live in a broken world

Fact is, whether you believe the story of Eden is literal or not, we are broken, depraved creatures.  We live in a world of sin, a world of darkness

The devil didn’t always do it, and God doesn’t always fix it the way we have the faith to want it

But God did fix it

That baby is saved.  See, that baby is in heaven, with God.  I firmly believe that, seeing as the requirement of salvation, the fundamental Christian tenement to be saved, no matter your chosen flavor of the church, is that you choose Christ, meaning you must know the choice, and either choose or reject it.  That baby never rejected Christ. So, in my view, that baby would be saved.  Maybe I’m wrong, but if I am, then me and God will have an issue

See, which is the greater miracle, allowing Christ Jesus to be tortured, beaten, and brutally murdered, even sending him to hell for 3 days, to provide eternal salvation for a broken, screwed up, ungrateful race, or swooping in and saving him from it all? I’m sure Mary would have, at least in part, preferred the latter, “Save my son from this God!” I’m sure a part of her heart cried.  

Which is the greater miracle, allowing the, certainly strong of faith and deserving of a nice life Steven to be beaten and stoned to death, yet welcomed into the arms of Jesus and eternal salvation, or swooping in to save him from temporary, admittedly horrible pain?

If God had stopped Saul from tormenting, even murdering, faithful, devout, God fearing Christians, would he have ever become Paul?

Miracles are not for the deserving, see, to live is gain, to die is Christ.  No, miracles are to spread the glory of God.  Miracles happen, so that someone who would have died and had chosen, by rejecting Christ, hell, to have more time to make a different choice, and perhaps be saved

We scream and mourn and blame God “He didn’t deserve to die!” No, perhaps not, and it is natural to be angry at death, death is a result of sin, God hates sin, and, I think, is angered by death

But God has beaten death.  We are eternal creatures. This earth, this wretched, screwed up earth, is but a temporary home.  It wasn’t supposed to be, but we broke it.  So God fixed it, but, first we need to accept the fix, and accept that its broken.

Be angry at death, be angry at sin, be angry that innocent people suffer.  Be angry.  

But above all, be a light.  Help a sad person smile.  Make a child laugh.  Feed a hungry man.  Give a cold man a blanket, or a heated shelter.  Bring a thirsty man water

Not because they deserve it, but because they need it.  Because people loving is what heaven, I think, is, unconditional, unquestioning, love.

Hell is hate.

We have both of them, or glimpses thereof, before us, on earth

A baby died today, in front of my eyes, in spite of all of our efforts, in spite of our prayers.

I’m not ok with that. I’m angry about it, I’ve cried about it, I will some more.  And I can either become angry as a person, miserable, give up, and be consumed so much by my hatred of hate, so bitter that we live in a world that could snuff out an innocent life; or I can choose to love.  I can choose to be happy in spite of the pain.  I can choose to bring joy.  I can choose to do all I can do to ensure a better world for the babies that didn’t die today.  I can choose Christ