Ever hear a still small voice? The one I hear is always male. Perfectly pitched somewhere between tenor and baritone. It has a calm quality that is soothing to the nerves even while it’s message always stirs my adrenaline into fight or flight mode. It is as if someone stands behind me and leans forward to speak just behind my right ear. The message is always the same, just three words in question form. “Where is Becca?”
I have often wondered if God himself asks the question but for years I believed it must be Becca’s guardian angel. Recently someone disagreed with me and said no they felt it was my guardian angel. Mine, because I would never be able to bear the pain of having her die because I wasn’t alert enough. Two particular incidents have come to mind.
In May 2002 we were at swim team practice. Lifeguards in the chairs and Tommy, the head guard, was drilling and reviewing the other guards in practice rescues on the far side of the pool. To top it off her coach was standing at the head of her lane. We hadn’t seen a seizure in months and I was too relaxed. Relaxed enough to break my own rule that one person must be responsible to watch her and only her. I had even turned my back to the pool to converse with some other moms sitting in the bleachers. The voice came and queried “Where is Becca?” I stood and turned abruptly enough to catch Tommy’s attention. As I scanned the pool for Becca in my peripheral vision I could see Tommy’s body stiffen his gaze was fixed intently on my face I even remember him waving off the questions being thrown at him. As soon as I saw her it was obvious she was seizing. Tommy did not wait for me to point or scream, he just dove to the place where my eyes were glued and scooped my baby girl out of the water. Amazingly even though Tommy still hadn’t spotted Becca in the water he dove directly to her.
The seizure stopped on it’s own and Tommy assessed Becca for “water damage” and she was fine. Then he turned to me and asked “how do you do that?” I inquired do what? Tommy said he had known us for five years and seen me do “that” on multiple occasions. He said I could be involved in anything and not paying attention and the second Becca was in trouble I would stand and scan for her. That day he was counting on my position in the bleachers allowing me to find her faster than he could from pool side (there were eighty other swimmers doing laps at that time). As soon as he saw in my eyes that I had located her he dove to the spot where I was looking. What had Tommy repeatedly seen? The results of that still small voice asking me ” Where is Becca?” and my knowing I must drop everything and find her as soon as I hear it’s question.
In June of 2004 we were traveling through Sequoia national park. We often parked to take pictures of scenic overlooks and soon came upon a turn out designed to view a tree. After parking I took Becca across the road to take a pictures of her hugging a sequoia.
With Becca at my elbow I took shots upward trying to capture the height and girth of the tree. That was when I heard the voice ask once again “Where is Becca?”
She had disappeared. I went all the way around the tree; no Becca. I heard a car approaching from above and then I saw her. She stood trance like, planted in the middle of the road. The road here was narrow with hairpin turns to accommodated travel up the steep mountain side. The forest was filled with brush that totally obscured Becca’s less than five foot frame from sight. From my vantage point on a mound, I had eye contact with the people in the car as they rounded the bend. To the passengers horror I ran into the middle of the road and stopped. I could no longer see the driver but the poor passenger was in a panic screaming and gesturing with her arms. I now realized that Becca was in full blown seizure and I would have to move one hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight off of the road. She was not budging. The car started to swerve into the oncoming side of the road to clear us and things were looking better. Just as quickly they became worse as I heard a car coming from down hill as well. The second vehical would not see any of this until after they came about the bend; then they only had twenty feet to react and no where to go.
All is well that ends well. At the last second I had the strength to lift and carry Becca off the road into the brush and up against the base of the tree. The down hill car managed to get back onto his side of the road passing Becca and I with a mere four inches of space between us and his vehicle. The uphill driver also managed to squeak by between the downhill car and our parked car. Becca was unaware of it all. I was screaming at my husband and sick enough to vomit, and my husband? Well he, as usual, was oblivious to all that had transpired. His nose had been buried in his computer in the back seat of the car and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what I was so upset about.
