...From the Hummels...

Here's an exerpt from Bryson Hummel's blog, written by his dad Beau. Bryson is the little boy who lost his leg in a lawn mower accident. You can check out the entire site here.

Tense. It’s the only way to possibly describe the drive to Marion Friday night. The last time we made this drive was the last time Bryson had two legs as 15 minutes after our arrival, the incident occurred. I kept replaying the first time I saw Bryson on the ground over and over again. Nicole even mentioned that she felt herself getting a bit nauseated. But ultimately we both agreed that all we had to do was get there…just get that first trip over with and we’d feel a whole lot better.

What we received was better than expected.

It was heaven. Sheer heaven. If it weren’t for the feeding tube, wound-vac cords everywhere, and only one leg protruding from underneath Spider Man pjs, you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong as 6 young cousins played frantically around their patriarch. Bryson sat on the floor giggling as he played with matchbox cars on the floor with his cousins. He got the biggest kick out of trying to hit them with his stuffed lamb (the one he sleeps with every night affectionately known as “Lamby”). The laughter of children…THE LAUGHTER OF BRYSON…heaven for Bryson and heaven for his mom and dad.

The next morning at about 9:30am I loaded Bryson into the van to head of to church as Nicole was making final preparations inside. As I adjusted his wound-vac and began to buckle him in, Bryson initiated this conversation:

Bryson: Daddy, this is where I got hurt.

Me: Where did you get hurt?

B: In the yard.

M: Where in the yard?

B: Over there (pointing around the corner of the house where the accident occurred).

M: What happened?

B: The lawn mower got me.

M: Did it hurt?

B: Yeah.

M: Did you cry?

B: Yeah.

M: I cried, too. I cried when you got hurt Bryson.

B: No you didn’t…you ran away.

(My body froze in disbelief at his shocking statement.)

M: No I didn’t. I sat down with you. You had a big bleed didn’t you?

B: Yeah.

M: Well, I took off my shirt and wrapped it around your leg to stop the bleeding.

B: No, you can’t take your shirt off. You ran away.

He said is so matter-of-factly. It wasn’t an accusation, blame, just the truth to him. Baffled, I let the conversation end as Nicole came to the van. As we pulled out of the driveway, I told her about our conversation and how stunned I was that Bryson thought I ran away when it was me that provided the truncate for his leg. Nicole looked and me and said calmly, “He’s right, Beau. You did run away. When you first saw him you came back to get me.”

So it was true. There laying beside the lawn mower with skin and bone strewn around the ground, tears streaming down his face in pain and frustration as he tried to stand up, I left him. His eyes were screaming, “DADDY! HELP ME!” But I turned away. My body began to shake as I clenched the steering wheel even tighter…and then tears exploded from my eyes. I’m his best friend. I’m his protector. I’m his strength…and I ran away. I was trying to help him, but all he knows is that daddy left him. Things escalated during the worship service when this verse to the song He Knows My Name:

I have a FATHER

He calls me His own

HE’LL NEVER LEAVE ME

No matter where I go



He knows my name
He knows my every thought

HE SEES EACH TEAR THAT FALLS
AND HEARS ME WHEN I CALL



Again I began to cry. I did hear Bryson call! I did see him crying. I left him, yes, BUT to go get more help so I could do what was best for him! And it was. As I held his leg, mommy comforted him and he never lost consciousness. People told me he’ll understand someday. But I don’t want someday; I want him to know now how much I love him and how much I hurt for him that night. I didn’t hear the sermon that morning because God was giving me a personal one in the pew. When we’re in crisis, we, too, call out to God for immediate aid. Sometimes we perceive the immediate silence as God not caring. He left me. He doesn’t hear me. He doesn’t understand what I’m going through. If He really cared, He’d do something right NOW. But knowing our pain, hearing our cry, maybe God is just rounding the corner of the house to get someone to work for Him: a co-worker to encourage us, a friend to unexpectedly take us out for a meal, a pay raise out of nowhere, a spouse or parent to get home to listen to us and cry with us. I was giving Bryson what was best and I can’t begin to love him as much as God does. If I want to do what’s best, why wouldn’t, why doesn’t God want it too? He may not look like He’s acting right away, but He is acting in the right way.