It's dark outside this morning as I sit in my little house on my little street, the time change (which was supposed to be a benefit to all of us) having knocked us for a loop. The days suddenly feel shorter and it's almost as if we are trying to cram more activity during daylight hours and not enough into settling into the quieter routine that winter brings.
It's only day 2, so I'm sure it will come...but in the meantime, we are yawning an awful lot at #23.
I like the dark mornings though. I find myself working a bit harder without daydreaming out into the garden. I also find that the dark mornings remind me to pray...maybe because it feels quieter than usual.
I was reminded from a friend about my love for writing out scripture...that it feels like an act of, I don't know. Reverence? Respect? I'm also a lover of reading scripture out loud...there's something about reciting words out loud that were breathed by God and I find that I lose myself in the words; in the verses that one by one or two by two have meaning but when read all together become such a great story.
And I love a story.
We are broken over here...in more ways than one.
It all started rather simple. Brian fell (a lot...he's a line backer) during his Friday night football game. I admit...we've drunk the kool aid. The football kool aid. There is something so intoxicating about sitting in the stands on a Friday night, under the lights watching your boy play this truly brutal game and hearing your kids name spoken over the loudspeaker.
The kool aid, which I swore we would never drink, is delicious.
Anyway, Brian hurt his hand. They pulled him from the end of the game, wrapped him up and off we went to the Dr on Monday morning. The routine is just that...routine. We go to our primary care dr, who knows us all too well and she sends whichever boy it is for an X-ray and then calls us with a yeah or nay later in the day, along with a referral to wherever we need to go.
Brian gets his X-ray and then we go eat because, well...that's what we do. Suddenly my phone starts going crazy - the radiologist, the drs office, the orthopedist and everyone is in a frenzy.
I don't like when the frenzy happens.
Within an hour, the babe was in a temporary cast and within two hours he was in a permanent cast and within 3 hours we were visiting with the surgeon.
People were coming in to look at the film and let me tell you, you never want to be the mother of the boy who has gawkers gawking at his films. This isn't the first time but I sure hope it's the last time.
He did quite the number on his wrist - broke a really important bone and needs to have a screw (or few) put in, followed by 12 weeks in a cast. TWELVE WEEKS in a cast.
This too shall pass and all will be well but boy oh boy, is my boy sad. It's his senior year. Football is over and it's pretty definite that he won't step foot on the basketball court this year either.
Such a bummer.
In the meantime, I'm still one armed, too.
We're a bit of a mess over here. A broken mess.
But, the sun will continue to rise and set and life will go on. Our limbs will heal, someday I'll be able to cook again (and hike...oh how I miss my hikes) and who needs a clean house anyway?
We've been binge watching Netflix (currently on season 4 of Parenthood...SO GOOD!) and all will be well. This too shall pass....right?