I took Will for his checkup this morning. Everything looks great. And that was, Lord willing, the last time he needs to see anyone about his finger. He needs to keep Band-Aids on it for another week, and then he's free and clear. I'm so grateful for all your prayers.
From the moment we walked into the doctor's office to the moment we walked out was exactly ten minutes. That's some kind of sweet. Of course, we were on the road for two hours, there and back again, but I'd rather not dwell on that part.
The kids are setting up a beach party out on the front porch, so that's what my afternoon is looking like.
4 comments:
Praising God taht Will is doing well. we have been going through a crisis with some friends here. It's been rough, but God's goodness is evident in the outcome...although a long road is ahead! We love you all and hope to see you someday soon!
So glad he's doing well! What a relief!
But how are you doing? Have you forgiven yourself for slamming the door? That's probably harder to heal then his fingers...but that's what grace is for, right?
I am so happy for you all.
I'm doing OK, Dan. The experience has been a difficult one, but I think I've forgiven myself. I know it was an accident and could've happened to anyone, but it's still difficult knowing that you are, even unintentionally, the cause of so much suffering for your child.
I had also, and I haven't written about this yet, but I had also the morning the accident happened read through the two chapters in Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky where Ivan tells Alyosha his reasons for not believing in God - and uses the example of the suffering of children. That was a strange concurrence of events, reading that apology for atheism (though Dostoevsky is firmly Orthodox) and then watching my son suffer so intensely, even if for such a relatively short time.
And pardon my going native for a minute, but I believe this is an important facet of suffering that I learned, that I hadn't truly understood before - about compassion rather than about passion. The pain at watching him suffer has begun me down a path of better understanding the Blessed Virgin Mary's suffering - the sword that pierced her heart because of her Son's passion. I can't comprehend her suffering, and yet now I feel an identity, a recognition, that I didn't have before. And I wonder at her pain.
Maybe more on this later, as I'm still thinking it through and have some children to take care of.
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