We had a long Saturday night of broken. Due to a spill off the monkey bars, Nathan and I spent the night in the emergency room with Miss E, waiting for an opening in an operating room for her to have surgery on her broken arm. We waited for six hours behind a curtained off area of the ER. I had plenty of time of reflection…when the morphine was working.
By late morning Sunday we were headed home from the hospital. None of us had slept much following a 2AM surgery, 4AM to our hospital room and some tough pain for Elizabeth. But Elizabeth learned root beer popsicles make things better. (And so does pain killer.)
In a flurry we had a few friends stop by with food and gifts, text messages and phone calls of good wishes for Elizabeth, more food from Leah like these Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins from Gal in the Middle, a hot meal from my mother-in-law and a visit with toys from my parents.
And even though Miss E still has a broken arm, I don’t feel as broken anymore. The broken bones jolted me. I needed to be reminded the outside worldly factors that we all get wrapped up into at some point or another aren’t the most important factors in my life. But being there for your family, in times of hurt, need and in times of joy, matter. Broken bones happen. And yet I found joy in being broken. It was the selflessness of family and friends that reminded me how much I have to be grateful for, every day, in good times and hard times. Even when things get broken.