In the dimly lit hospital corridor…
Five-year-old Oliver had been rushed to hospital and taken to the upper floor. His mother, Charlotte, wasnt allowed to follow. She sat on one of the scuffed wooden chairs in the waiting area, flinching at every sound.
Her mind foggy with fear, she called her husband. Olivers in danger. Hes barely hanging on. Its serious.
Her husband replied calmly, Hes tough, like me and his grandad. Were made of sturdy stuff. Dont go off the deep end. Everythings fine. Mum and I are at the cottage picking mushrooms. Go home, let the doctors do their jobthey know what theyre doing.
The corridor felt oppressive, its flickering lights indifferent to her anguish.
She stepped outside onto the hospital steps and called her mother. Mum, Olivers not doing well. I could tell by the doctors faces. Its bad, Mum. Her voice cracked.
Her mother responded briskly, Listen to me. Worry attracts more worry. Put it out of your mind, think positive. Light follows light. Fretting wont help a thing. Pull yourself together.
The air inside was stifling. A nurse scolded her gently, Now then, love, no hysterics, please. Let us do our work.
Only one person lefther sister. Emma, Olivers not okay. The doctors wont say whats wrong. Hes unconscious!
Emma said soothingly, It happens with kids. Growing pains, thats all. Trust me. Crying wont helpyoull only make yourself ill.
Charlotte retreated to the far end of the corridor, where the shadows were deepest. The building was pre-war, untouched by renovation for decades.
Glancing around, she slipped off her necklace with the tiny cross, knelt, and pressed it to her lips. She didnt care who saw. Youre all-powerfulI know, I believe. Youve felt pain. You know what it is. And Your Mother wept, just as I do now. Reach out, comfort me. Theres no one else, just me and this hurt. I need Your mercy, Your love. Help me, please. Only You.
She stayed there, silent.
A door creaked open. A figure in a white coat stepped outthe doctor. He saw her, approached, and offered his hand. Up you get. Breathe. Your boy will be fine. Thats a promise. Come on, now.
Leaning on his kindness, she stood. I cant speak. Thank you. Can I stay? Sleep on the chairs?
The elderly doctor smiled. Home. Straight home. Relax, its all right. Call in the morning. He handed her his card.
By the next day, her husband, sister, and mother all insisted theyd been right all along. She shouldve listened, not panicked like a madwoman.
But none of them understoodreal truth was bigger than them. It was in a mothers prayer, a mothers love, and in the One who never turns away.
