Heard

In June 2006, we took our then 8 children on a trip which we described to them beforehand would be an ‘adventure’ more than holiday. How right we were. Our patched-up Landrover County was loaded up with camping gear and children and we set off for Oxford, then Stratford upon Avon, camping in each place for a couple of nights while we explored the areas.

We left Shakespeare country on a hot day and after many miles and as many "Are we there yets?", we neared the New Forest, where we were booked in to a campsite within the forest. We were winging it on old maps and friendly stranger directions as we wove down lanes, U-turned and double backed under roofs of green, stretched boughs who shook hands over the lanes we travelled. It was the 20th of June, a day before the longest day of the year. It was hot and still.

Having found the extensive site, bright green clearings with new, clean toilet and shower blocks (OH JOY), we drove around a bit, trying to find 'the right spot’ and once chosen, we jumped out and teamed. Our two older boys knew the drill, unloading the Landy with Dad to ‘make camp’ while I took the younger 6 children for a leg stretching explore. We had heard from our friends who lived locally, that the forest teemed with wildlife. Wild horses could be seen, very tame apparently and lots of birds, squirrels and more, if we were vigilant.

As Barnabas, Joshua and Gabriel scampered ahead, my voice chasing them not to go too far I felt a moment of unease. I was pregnant, carrying a toddler and watching two little girls chasing about the trees, enjoying the dappling of June sun on the forest floor, the haze of heat rising from small, unshaded patches of heated earth. It occurred to me that I could lose them very quickly and for a brief moment the girls disappeared. I spun around seeing how it all looked alike, calling their names in a forced calm voice.

They reappeared around a bush. Heart steadied. Now where were the boys? Happy shouts and whoops just up ahead signalled they were happy and I ushered the girls to keep up with me as I kept up with their brothers.

There was an eerie quiet that came suddenly, as though the forest knew something I didn’t and held its breath. The only sounds were my own laboured breathing and heavy footsteps through old leaves and the little trippy steps of a 14month old wiggly girl who now held my hand and stumbled beside me. A sharp scream shrilled through the forest, followed by a loud thump. Scooping up Susanna, I ran to the spot where 5 year old Gabriel lay slumped on the ground, crying. As he turned his face toward me blood poured from his mouth. On my knees beside him, I tried to feel his bones to see if anything was broken. I wasn’t sure whether to move him or not. His older brother, Joshua had seen him fall. They were climbing

on a log. Not very high...he pointed to it. It appeared that as he fell, his mouth tried to stop the fall! His front teeth were missing and he had torn his mouth badly. Dean and the older boys arrived, panting hard. They had heard the scream and ran. He needed a hospital, but the Landy was half unpacked and we had no idea where to go. And no phone signal. A frantic prayer was uttered, "Lord...Send help!"

A stranger appeared beside us. "I heard the scream", she gasped. "I'm a nurse and I trained here.! I can take you to hospital in my car." Our angel was a Yorkshire woman who told us she was camping already on the pitch beside us, having returned to the area to visit friends. She had trained in Southhampton so knew which hospital we needed to be at.(There are two!) I held Gabe close in the back seat trying to simultaneously comfort him and protect her upholstery. "You're very calm!"she called back. Outwardly, yes. I had to be. Inwardly I felt like my insides were melting with stress. Our angel from the North (I didn't even get a name) stayed with us until our friends could be contacted and arrived later with arms loaded with hugs and helpfulness.

Later that night, as Gabe awaited surgery, his dad and I changed shift. I came back to the tent, exhausted, upset, wanting to be there still, but wanting to be here too...with the other children, who also needed me. Our canvas home was up.Cheeky squirrels were trying to invade. Later they succeeded, stealing cereals and nuts. Small, wild ponies came nosing into the tent doorways, children laughing. They were happily distracted and went to bed reassured that Gabriel would be just fine. I lay awake most of that night, listening to the many sounds a forest makes when the world is sleeping. The dawn chorus heralded the longest day as prayers and fat tears rolled into one another. Comforting light broke in and warmed the

canvas with reassuring light. All was well. God is good.

It occured to me later that God knew that fall was going to happen. He didn't prevent it. Kids will climb and falls are inevititable. Hurting and healing walk hand in hand in this life. Yet, HE positioned help, guided us to the pitch beside hers with that 'this feels right' moment. She could not have been more equipped to help us. But what if we hadn't prayed for help? I'm sure a plan would have been formed and executed, but how much more stress involved? We chose, Dean and I, in the moment of crisis to call on the One who hears from Heaven, Who waits for us to ask, then responds, as any loving Father would. Perhaps most importantly, our kids got a faith building lesson. Our 'big adventure' furnished us with plenty of stories like these, part of the Bell's annals that we periodically remember, review and remind each other; that God hears us, can be trusted. We may say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But when life goes pear-shaped...who you gonna call?