My Last Week

Crises.


What would our lives be without them?


Our latest was the smashing of a finger in a door which resulted in a severed fingertip.
My poor boy-child.


This is the one who's broken both arms, 15 months apart.


We just got a cast off a few weeks ago.


We are now sporting stitches and a stubby finger.


It was a long day.


A morning phone call stating:
"They're ok.  But you need to get to the ER."


The longest.drive.ever 
from Fayetteville,TN to Huntsville, AL.


Initial images of a blood-soaked shirt and bloodied bandages.
His pale face.
His worried baby sister.
And extended family.


Long treks to Pre-Op


A long wait for surgery.


My baby?  Surgery?  Anethesia?


Kisses goodbye.
Strangers wheeling him down a hallway.


And waiting.


A hodgepodge of family.
Broken relationships or no,
We are still family.


Wait being over, hugs and kisses on my little trooper.
And the trek back home.


This momma bird was elated at having her chicks back in the nest.


Food, meds, rest, kisses.


I've been told I'm strong.
But, you do what you gotta do.
When it comes to those kids.
You. Just. Do.


My "come-aparts" are less dramatic the older I get.
I suppose it's age.
It's something.
And late that evening, my come-apart moment consisted of gentle weeping on the very strong shoulders of my man.


I'm grateful.
For a good hospital.
For my son's bravery.
That this wasn't worse than it was.
For adults who could focus on the patient and nothing else.
For God's protection.


For provision.


For a safe place to land when the dust settled.


For leaps and bounds in the maturity of this young man who is my son.


For perspective.


God gives us strength to face the most unexpected, and trying, of circumstances.


Tonight.
Just grateful.