So we all got up, got dressed, ate, and dinner was in the crockpot. My directions were printed out and I was in the kitchen making sandwiches. The kids were on the front porch waiting for our friends to arrive. Suddenly, my seven year old came in yelling and leading the 3 year old who was dripping copious amounts of blood from his hand. He had slammed his thumb in the front door. I cleaned it a bit with a cool cloth and had him hold it over his head until I could gauze it up tightly, but one look at the cut and in that instant I knew our trip to Alabama was off.
In less than 10 minutes, we were headed to the ER. As luck would have it, my husband happened to have a meeting in the area, so he was able to meet us there. No one from the triage nurse on up took more than one glance at that thumb and didn't think it needed stitching, but we were fortunate -- it didn't cut into his thumbnail and he didn't require sedation for the stitches. It was a bad cut down to the bone and it did crack the bone as well, but it could have been worse.
I got my change of scenery, but not the one I was planning on.
As we waited in the ER, another family started showing up. And I was given the chance to pray for someone else and think about my good fortune. An 8 year old girl had been life-flighted in not long after we arrived. She had skipped across a road to check the mail without looking and had been hit by a truck. With bones broken in her hip, leg and spine and a lacerated liver but no head injuries, her family was hopeful that she would pull through, but anyone could tell it was going to be a long haul. One second she was skipping and in an instant they had feared the worst.
It's so easy to go along as if we know what's next, but sometimes in a moment we are reminded of how little we know.