There may not have ever been a soul more fiercely loyal to his family than the one that lives in the body of my young son. As I stuttered and sputtered trying to get my family out the door and to the emergency room where Sarah would become the lucky winner of six stitches Moses stood frozen in his underpants, keeping watch over his big sis. She was lying on the floor in the kitchen holding ice to her chin and forceful directives to, “Go and find some pants, Young Man” could not move him from her side. Finally I got the pants myself and had to carry him, kicking, to the van.
“Sarah’s hurt. Sarah’s hurt.”
“I know, buddy. We are trying to take her to the doctor and you need to get on my team. Seriously, buckle your belt. I will be right back.”
In the waiting room he kept watch, letting me know every time an ice cube fell to the floor. And when Jason came to retrieve Moses and the baby with dried noodles hanging from her hair, Moses wouldn’t move.
“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go, Dad. I stay with Sarah.” He pleaded, the full weight of his thirty pounds pulling against Jason’s grip.
“Moses, she is going to be fine. It isn’t a big deal. Sarah is o.k.” We promised in unison.
Jason finally had to pick him up and we could hear him crying as he moved down the hall.
I often wonder at the making of this sensitive soul. Is his genuine empathy and tender comfort born of his deep understanding of loss? Was he gifted from birth to carry in his heart the burdens of other’s weight? He can’t answer that at three-years old, but regardless of how he came to this place, what he shows us of his spirit is beautiful. It is a strong cord wrapped tightly around the perimeter of our family that reminds us of what, and more importantly who, matters.
Later in the evening, I was discussing with Jason that it was time for Sarah to ice her chin. Moses was listening to us.
“Can I snuggle Sarah? She’s hurt.” He said.
And so he brought her tattered blankie and they each took half of the recliner. She set her chin upon a bag of frozen blueberries.
“I will read to you, Sarah.” He said.
He still struggles to pull apart the slick pages of books, so I watched as Sarah helped him turn the pages and he ‘read’ with her filling in the gaps where her memorization exceeds his. They sat there for an hour. And I found them in the same spot this evening.
Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude.” 1 Peter 3:8