I'm not going to write about writing today, at least I don't think so. You know, I've said it before and I'll say it again: life happens.
My 2-year-old grandson, Miles, fell last week and broke his femur up near the hip bone. He is in a full body cast and miserable. He can't get around on his own, he is barely eating or drinking, and gets pulled around in a wagon.
We all know adults and teens can get depressed, but I believe our younger folks can, too. A few years ago I had foot surgery. I was very depressed because I could hardly get from the bed to a wheelchair. I think Miles is depressed, too. He can't sit up, he can't walk, he can't get around on his own. Holding him is a major deal.
Yesterday my husband and I took him to the mall. We just loaded his wagon up and pillows. He ate a little bit at the restaurant, but smiled and talked all the way home from the mall. It was the first I'd heard him say much of anything since the accident.
The whole body cast is for 8 very long weeks. My daughter and her partner are stretched to the max taking care of him, and that doesn't even take into consideration their 2-month-old baby. I suggested they trade off: one for one hour with Miles, the other one hour with the baby, then switch. Sounds good to me, but I don't know if they're going to do it or not.
I want to say a heartfelt "thanks" to all who have been praying for them, and ask you please send up more when you think about their little family.