Cowboy X has been branded.
Four and a half weeks ago he reached up with chubby hand towards a mug of tea, just poured from the singing kettle, and learned what “hot” meant.
The liquid poured down his 18 month old arm, destroying everything in its path instantly, soaking into pajama sleeve, shockingly ruthless.
The shrieking was severe.
The clothes were torn off posthaste but the damage was done. Emergency room patched him up and the next morning we headed to Hillcrest Burn Center in Tulsa to see the experts.
How a mother’s heart breaks to watch a child in pain. My eyes brim over with memory and grief. How do you explain to a baby that all will eventually come right? How many times can you say I’m so sorry for an instant’s unwatchfulness?
When words do not suffice, it is enough to be held, and to hear the murmured prayers of someone who loves you, someone who cares more than words can say.
The verdict was deep tissue 2nd degree burn. The flesh peeled away in horrifying thicknesses, later turning white when underlying cells decided the damage was too severe to recover and gave up their battle as well. Twice daily we bathed the arm and slathered on the ointment thick for healing, wrapping and bandaging to protect the raw and vulnerable from infection.
Several times I had to sit with head between knees until the spinning world decided to come back into focus. I am The Fainter, The Squeamish One, The One Who Does Not Deal Well With Blood or Gore.
It felt so cruel, this bathing and washing. To unwrap his dressings caused him pain. To expose the damage to water and soap, to pop the blisters and gently help the dead skin release its hold did not feel kind.
He cried.
I cried.
Yet it was not cruelty, it was kindness. Cruelty would have been to leave him as he was. Left to itself, the dead flesh would damage further, spreading infection and disease.
Neglect is never kindness.
Xavier, with hitherto untapped wells of courage, submitted to the actions without struggle. Clinging to his sister, tiny feet wiggling continually in an effort to distract, he would bury his face in her shoulder until it was over and done.
And the Lord spoke. Oh, how He spoke.
This is what I do for you He whispered to my heart. See the dead, clinging flesh? You don’t need it. It’s a danger to you. Let Me strip it off. Let Me bathe the hurt with healing water. Let Me bind up Your wounds.
This world wounds. We are every one of us burned by the daily heat of life on planet earth. Some is self-inflicted, and some is poured out by others and we are simply bystanders, injured by default.
All of it hurts.
We can guard it. We can resist His ministrations, kicking and pushing Him away, telling Him we are fine.
We are not fine.
But it’s our flesh. It’s a part of us. We love it. We don’t want to see it go, no matter how damaged and dangerous it may be. I loved Xavier’s chubby little wrist. To see the flesh wash down the drain broke my heart. But holding onto it would not have saved it.
See what a blessing it is that he submits The Lord whispered again. See how much easier it is to get done quickly…how much less painful it is to him when he does not struggle. My heart does not delight in your pain. My heart delights in your healing.
As sure as I wept over Xavier, the Lord weeps over us. He is distraught over the damage of sin in our lives. He is only waiting for us to be still, to hold the battered pieces out to Him and let Him do His work of stripping and cleaning, anointing and binding. It feels like cruelty, but it is the sweetest form of love we will ever experience.
Cling to Him as He works. It is enough to be held, and to hear the murmured prayers of Someone who loves you, Someone who cares more than words can say.
(This is the injury:)
(And this is the cleaning:)
(This is the trust:)
(And this is the healing:)
I can only imagine…
Poor baby. And poor mama.
You are being more than kind. You are being strong and firm for the best result. It shows how much you guys love him that you can see through the crying and pain to see the end result. Accidents happen and you are working to make it better. Even though it sucks. I’ll be praying.
What a metaphor (and it’s not even Monday!). I’m practically crying from reading the post, and then…oh, then…the pictures. If only we could have the trust like little Xavier, we would be so much better off. I just finished a study on Kay Arthur’s book “Lord, Heal My Hurts,” and this was just confirmation of what I learned. Thank you for being willing to share, even though it’s painful.
This post made me cry. Praying for Cowboy.
Poor baby boy!
Beautiful metaphor, Jenni. Truly. As I was reading, I thought about how often I put Joshua through pain in the hopes that it might eventually help him long-term & I thought about what God is saying in terms of the same metaphor… and I cried.
Thank you.
Xavier is a strong little boy and you, my friend, are an incredibly strong woman.
Just sending ((((HUGS))))
Oh, poor baby, poor mom….sorry!!!
Hugs
Mary
OH. What a tremendous, healing insight to come out of such an awful situation. I am that child, stubbornly clinging to dead flesh, not letting God tend to me. Your words are soaking into my soul right now, persuading me to open up a little more.
I’m so sorry about Xavier’s burn. I can’t imagine having to do all of that with my kids – but I know I would, if I had to. I hope he heals quickly and completely.
You made this mommy cry. My heart broke for you and the little guy.
But the post was lovely. The spiritual truths pricked my heart as well. I just love your writing. Thank you.
Oh, the poor, poor thing! This post made me bawl – as Nanette said, for you AND your little boy!!! What an amazing metaphor – I really appreciate this! It’s nice to hear from you again.
so so so so SO soooooo… looking forward to a million X hugs this week!!!!!!!
In tears. I’m so sorry. Yet it’s so beautiful. Thank you.
Awww, poor little Cowboy X.
So sorry to hear this, but so glad that you can all be so brave and strong for each other. Thank you for sharing this lesson so beautifully.
Oh Jenni..I’m so sorry that it happened… your writing is so meaningful as always.
This is the most beautiful metaphor yet. I’m just sorry it came at your poor baby’s expense.
Oh, dear me. Poor, poor sweet boy. Poor mama and daddy.
I did that with a perking coffee pot at about the same age. I have no memories of any it.
Brilliant. Beautiful. Heartbreaking. Timely. This year my older son had open heart surgery. It is ever so difficult to see your child suffer, even for his greater good. My soul sees my trials on earth in a new light now. Thank you for sharing, Jenni. And feather light kisses for Cowboy X <3
Man. That looks hideously painful! So glad he’s doing better. Can’t wait to see him and give him a nice big man hug.
made me tear up again…yes, Papa strip all our dead flesh away!
Oh, Jenni! How awful. Thank you for the great perspective. I love how he’s looking in the trust picture. So sweet.
Praying for your sweet, brave boy tonight… and sending prayers of thanksgiving to God for speaking so beautifully through you.
Praying for your sweet baby and for you and your family. So precious the words you wrote as you described what you have gone through and how God spoke to your heart in the midst of the suffering.
Ouch! Poor little thing. Hope he feels better soon.
First of all, so sorry about your Cowboy. It makes this momma’s heart so sad.
Second, your words today will mean more than you will ever know.
Poor baby boy! What a precious reflection from you, Mama…so right on.
poor poor baby! i’m so sorry that he and you have been dealing with this.
Oh! The poor, poor baby. I can barely breathe just reading this. Bless all of your hearts. Such beautiful reflection, Jenni. Thank you for sharing this truth with us.
((hugs)) it is never easy to see your child in pain, you’re words were beautiful. My youngest ds is my battle-scarred bruiser, but he never seems to remember the pain, just the love and care he received after.
I am so sorry. I know EXACTLY how it feels to be that Momma. My daughter was 18 months as well and hot water spilled on her stomach, laid on her leg and splashed to her feet. 2nd degree on stomach and 3rd degree on leg due to the water laying there and 1st degree on her feet. Happened in day care.
All I did was hold her close after cleaning her bandages. Talk sweetly and sing quietly as the tears fell to her head.
When asked how I could do the treatment, my response was “How can I not?” Poor baby.
Deb
I am so sorry you both are going through this. I have had 2nd degree burns, but so much smaller than his. They hurt, so I can sympathize. (((hugs)))
Bless, bless BLESS! He is the same size as my Todd. You are so helpful to us all…
woooo…..owey………poor baby and mom and dad. it hurts so to watch your little ones hurt. praying for all and grateful for our LORD and His grace. praying! sue
Oh Jenni… I am achingly sorry. And even in this you see a picture of God… in achingly beautiful prose.
I love you, sweet friend…
Snuggle brave Xavier from us here… and know in his embrace, how I hug you too….
All’s grace,
Ann
(Whose youngest too had severe 2nd degree burns — and I remember the mama tears. (((Jenni)))
What a sad situation. You can absolutely see the trust on his face as his daddy works on him. That is so lovely.
I just wanted to say that as painful as the treatment might be, thank you for doing it. My cousin was also severely burned as a child, and my aunt did NOT care for it the same way you have. Poor guy has been horribly scarred for the rest of his life as a result. The metaphor from the other angle…
I am so sorry. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.
Oh, poor, poor Xavier! My heart aches to see those pics. I can’t imagine. But what an analogy, Jenni! Wow!
thanks for this.
Oh Jenni…I’m so sorry. Prayers of healing for Mr. X AND you.
God is so good. I’m glad Xavier is doing better. Must go get a tissue now.
I will share this story with several. It is a very touching story and my heart is with you all as well as my prayers…
I’ve been away from my blog for a while….and now I’ve come back to read the things I’ve missed.
I am so sorry to see this! I know what a good, loving, wonderful Mama you are to your babies, and I can scarcely imagine your terror and his pain…but as so many others have commented, I love to see your perspective here. So glad to see the improvement in the pics, and I’m sure that he will remember not just the burn, not just the pain–but also the love, the comfort, the healing given to him at the loving hands of his family. God bless you all!
I don’t think I’ve ever read a post that made me this emotional. Maybe it’s the baby and imagining my own 14 month old hurting like that. Or maybe it’s the metaphor. Maybe it’s both. I’m glad you’re back though
Heal on, Cowboy X!
I took a vacation from being online! I am so sorry to read what happened to Cowboy X. My mommy heart cringes and aches for him and for you.
I hope by now, he is well on the path to recovering, feeling less pain as the days go by.
Thanks for sharing. Sending hugs and thanks for the thoughtful lesson you imparted, too.
Oh sweet Xavier.
Oh the poor little darling. I hope he’s feeling much better now. I cam over via Anne’s blog and stayed to wander around your posts. Beautiful thoughts and words. Thanks.
PS – I’m saying a prayer for your little Cowboy X (that’s what we called our first born – he’s now 29 yrs old!)
I’m so far behind and just read this. Love and hugs to all of you. How is the healing going?
Thanks, Jody. He’s all better; just some scarring that we hope will fade with time (see 1000 blessings post)…