There was blood, sweat and tears at our house tonight. Josiah was carving (he said “I just wanted to make Indian signs!”) on his walking stick and slipped with the blade. On his right hand, above the first knuckle he gashed himself pretty deep. When I saw the bare white cap of his knuckle through the gash I knew it was bad. But God totally provided for all we needed in the emergency. I called the local medical office of our small rural town and though they were closing in 10 minutes, they graciously said “bring him in.” John was only minutes from home, and drove as I held Josiah’s flesh together to stop the profuse bleeding. Uncle Tom was there, and watched the younger boys for us. And most wonderful of all? The Dr. said if he had cut just a fraction deeper the tendon would’ve been severed and he wouldn’t have movement in that digit! 8 stitches, in 2 layers and a splint to hold it all together. He was terrified of getting stitches and cried as they did it, but overall I’d say he did pretty well and handled his fear and pain with bravery. I think John and I will cry more over the bill! Though we have had a few close calls Josiah is our first little man to get stitches. People have predicted this event (in spades) since the day we gave birth to our 3rd boy. Can I just say how thrilled I am at having a solid twelve and a half year run?
Okay. I know. We are entering adolescence here shortly. And raising a crew of boys that are 13, 15 and 17 years old is a whole ‘nother ball of wax. But we passed a test today and know that we’ll be able to handle the next 8 years of blood and gore with bravery.
(Though it may be time to start praying more earnestly for health insurance!)