I mentioned to someone this week that I was having the week from hell. Literally, I wondered if our rash of negative events was an attack from ‘the dark side,’ or more accurately a spiritual attack on our family. And, as usual, I wondered if I had somehow caused this attack by my own carelessness.
It all started last Saturday, ironically, at the Jeffco Safety Fair. Walking across the street, both Drew and I fell, with the consequence that Drew broke his clavicle. It’s bent, fortunately, rather than severed, and God made our bones with an amazing ability, not only to heal but to correct the bad angle. Wow! He’s healing up nicely. Mom’s still a basket case.
Shortly after this incident, one of the kids knocked a hole in our shower tile. Almost $500 later, it will be fixed next week. This was bound to happen, given the construction of the wall. And the cost was less than my husband had anticipated. Not only that, the hand man who is going to fix it was a cop, a fire fighter and would like to discuss writing with me, since he’s writing a book also. One of his previous locations was Jersey, which happens to be the location of one of my stories.
We plan our vacation every year in mid September, to avoid the crowds and to view the changing colors of Colorado. This year we planned our trip to the Rocky Mountain National Park. The arrangements were made and the kids began to come down with a virus. My first thought was for Drew, because he comes down with Croup every year. I prepared, according to two doctors’ instructions and Drew seemed to be handling the virus just fine…
We woke up at 5:00 am the first morning out, with his airways tight and the cold morning air only afforded a slow recovery. He did work his way out of it, however, so we continued our day, keeping watch over his breathing and carefully following the doctor’s instructions. Later that day I was just about to make the decision to stay when he took a turn for the worse. His airways were clamping down and nothing seemed to be working. Well, I’m not superstitious, but bad things DO tend to come in three’s… Just wait, there’s more. While I was making the decision to pack it up and head home, our 10year-old daughter was borrowing her brother’s bike. She headed downhill…and lost her breaks. She hit a car, broadside, and rolled over the hood. As it turns out, the couple driving the car had lost a child in an accident. For them, this was more traumatic even than for us. Amazingly, Becca came out of this with a strained wrist and tears of embarrassment. In the process of this accident, we met the local deputy, Matt. He had a very stabilizing, calming effect on the situation and was very concerned about Becca. My husband was so impressed with how he handled everything. Yup. I haven’t met a deputy yet that I didn’t like.
Well, there’s more. Drew ended up in the hospital the night we returned from the RMNP. His airways just kept closing. Turns out the medicine I was told to use was inappropriate for Croup. Hm. I’m so glad I made the call to come home!
Now, this morning, in the hospital, the Front Range is visible beyond the bustling Saturday morning city, and calls me home. As I sit, and pace, with my coffee, and wonder how this piece of really sticky tape got attached to my hand sometime during the night, I have a whole new perspective on the situation. What looked like a rash of bad things WAS. But over all of it I saw a layer of God’s protection. It all could’ve been so much worse. God is good, and I am thankful.
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