Alex Skatell

Ads are coming to AI. But not to Claude. Keep thinking.

It’s taken me a while to share about this, but this summer I had, without a doubt, the worst experience of my life. It’s a random weekend early in the summer. My wife was overwhelmed. 3 kids under 5 is a lot. So I figured I’d give her a break and take the kids to the park for a couple hours, then meet her at a place near us for dinner. Maybe she could go to adoration, maybe just relax. I felt like I was the dad of the year. And it went great. The kids were having a blast. We left the park after an hour or so but had some time to kill so we stopped by another little park on our way to dinner called Safety Town. It was a park meant for toddlers to learn how to ride bikes - a little mini town with little streets. All fenced in. Perfect for me to relax for 15 minutes before dinner. I saw there were a few other kids there. Some were pretty old. But I figured it’d be fine. So my kids ran in. And I turned around to get my youngest (1) out of the stroller. As I was turning my son (3) was run over by a 12 year old on a bike whipping around a corner. I didn’t see it at all. I just saw my son on the ground. Screaming. I thought it was just a busted lip from getting knocked down. I carried him and the other two back to my house and told my wife to meet us there instead of dinner. But he wouldn’t calm down. Nothing was working. Then my wife rolled up his pants and looked at his leg. It was swollen more than I’d ever seen. The bike had run over his leg. We sped to the ER. He was screaming in pain. Both bones in his shin were fully broken. The doctor said it was too bad of a break for their hospital to handle. They put him on morphine and took him in an ambulance downtown to another hospital. They put him on ketamine. Got him in a cast. Tried to get him to sleep. Ultimately ended up giving him oxy. And after hours and hours of sitting next to my son screaming in pain and begging us to stop it…after hours of my wife and I standing by him in tears as we held his little hands…he finally slept. What followed was 8 weeks of hell. He had to go through opioid withdrawal as a three year old - he was confined to a wheelchair for weeks. Bored. Frustrated. In pain. He wasn’t old enough to play video games. He was just a 3 year old who wanted to run around and wrestle. But still nothing compares to that night. And the thing is he survived. We did not lose our son. He was hurt only for a brief moment. So many others go through so much worse than we did. My pain was barely a fraction of what so many parents have to go through. But for me…in my life - nothing had ever come anywhere close to that pain. And I realized something - I had always known the worst cross I could be asked to carry in this world would be the pain or loss of a child…but I realized there was something unique about this that I hadn’t thought of before. It was my fault. It is my job to protect him. I saw the situation. I should’ve watched him as he ran into safety town. Had I seen it I could have stopped it. I’m his dad. It’s my job. And I failed. People would keep saying that same thing to me “It’s not your fault” “You can’t put that weight on yourself” But it didn’t mean anything to me. I know what happened. I know what I could’ve done. Sure - I didn’t actively hurt him….but I could’ve stopped it. I spent so many hours in prayer, so many visits to adoration. But I struggled. I knew I was supposed to unite my suffering with Christ on the cross. But honestly I would’ve rather had all of my limbs cut off…I’d rather be thrown into a fire…I’d rather have nails put through my hands than ever watch what happened to my son happen again. And, this is too arrogant and ignorant for me to have thought, but Jesus didn’t watch his son die. He didn’t experience that pain. I know Mary did, and I tried to seek solace in her pain, but it was different. It wasn’t her fault. And for the first time in my life…I saw a pain in the Passion I’d never seen before. The pain of the Father. The Father. The Creator of the Universe. The One to Whom His son cried out let this cup pass The One Who could’ve stopped it all But didn’t. And it just hit me: Darkness came over the whole land The earth shook and the rocks were split. The heartbreak of the Father. And at once I was consoled. He was there with me. His pain was much deeper than mine. He watched His son suffer. He bore the weight. He sacrificed His son…His only son….for me…for you…for my son. And that wasn’t all. He also showed me my heart. The reason it had hurt so badly was because above everything - I think I’m a good dad. I don’t think I’m that good of a CEO, I’m not a great founder, I’m not good at evangelization, I’m not good at making at app, I’m not even that great of a husband…but a dad? That one I’ve got. That one I’m good at. It was very core of who I thought I was. After everything else faded away it alone remained. It was my identity…but it wasn’t rooted in God. I am not a good dad. There is only One who is good. I am only a good dad to the extent that I let Him father my children through me. And He was and He is. He had my son in the palm of His hand more than I ever could. Even in the pain. Even in the worst moments. He was in control. He always is. Our son is fully recovered. Back to running around like the incredible crazy little monkey he is. Honestly though, my wife and I are still recovering. But in all things God continues to prove time and time again that He is good. His ways are better than ours. Even when they lead us through pain. Please pray for me. Please pray for us. *Please forgive all theological errors in this. In all things I defer to those who know more than me. Christ’s passion was much worse than just the cross. He took the sin of the world upon His shoulders. His pain was much deeper than anything I could ever comprehend or experience. Mary’s pain is the same. Much deeper than anything I could imagine. She held in her heart the suffering of the world. I only meant to share my prayer, as flawed and as arrogant as it was. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me a sinner.