Grateful for what’s not broken

SweetP broke her arm on Saturday.  This wasn’t a case of, “Maybe it’s broken, let’s wait and see.”  Or even, “Well, let’s go the doctor to be sure.”   We’ve had both of those around here.

No, when she fell, her arm looked like Harry Potter’s when Professor Lockhart accidentally removed all the bones.  Even Moriah could tell it was broken and screamed higher and louder until we all (meaning every adult at the party) came running and then was afraid to pick her up because it looked so horrible.

I had her in the car on the way to the hospital immediately, and only after we were on our way did it occur to me that I hadn’t said a word to our other children, who had all seen her there on the ground, before swooping her off to the ED.

At the hospital, all I had to do was show them her arm to be led back to a trauma bay.  They gave her IV with morphine before taking her back to X-ray; the tech did the films without having to transfer her out of her bed.  My phone worked, and I was able to connect with our church’s prayer team and lots of friends and family before we sedated her for the reduction.  I was okay with the broken arm; it was the sedation that frightened me.  The last thing she said before they put her under was, “That boy is very big.  We should pray for him,” as a teenager in a Miami-J cervical collar was wheeled by her room.

Twenty minutes later, the nurse invited us back into her room to wait for her to wake up.  When she opened her eyes, she looked at us for a minute and began to pray for the “big boy” that he would be okay.

I am grateful for all the injuries she didn’t sustain.

I am grateful for our friends who gathered my other kids under their wings and assured Jonah that it was not a mortal wound, as he feared, then took them to our house and eased them into bed with prayers and gentle presence, and waited to see if we needed one of them with us at the hospital.

I am grateful for all the prayers offered on our behalf, all the donuts and texts and calls, and for Phoebe’s BFF’s presence yesterday.

I am grateful that she could still go to theater camp this week– a gift especially when her swim team season is over prematurely.

Most of all I am grateful that when she woke up, she was still my girl, whose first instinct was prayer.


2 thoughts on “Grateful for what’s not broken

  1. Love this. Thank you for offering praise in the midst of brokenness. Isn’t that such a beautiful picture of His presence present in our pain? Isaiah 61 coming to mind. Powerful reminder. Continuing to pray for full recovery. And lots of popsicle moments along the way.


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