Rufus Will Never Be a Nurse

It's too bad that Blackie is so old and immobile. Her performances as the family nanna are legend. Rufus, on the other paw, hides from the sound of illness. The best medicine he offers is a constant and thorough licking, which is not usually appreciated by the patient. That said, Rufus has done well as a nighttime companion, encouraging sleep and modeling it quite effectively.

I have always been afraid of the words "brain injury". The last seven months have brought one head injury and two concussions into our family experience. The first injury, a framing hammer falling on my son's head, did not result in a concussion but did require stitches in a foreign clinic. The second one, a concussion, was scary but that son healed quickly without complications. This third injury, to the third son, was much worse. Full emergency response, hours in a hospital emergency room, several days in the hospital, and now home. Thankfully, we have not seen significant personality changes or memory loss beyond what seems to be normal for a teenaged boy.

Okay, so now that we've covered each of the boys with a bonk on the head, we're ready to be done with this chapter. I realized during an outing yesterday that my sudden and absolute need to return to my son's side was either (a) mother's intuition or (b) an anxiety attack. It doesn't matter which it was, the effect was that I was compelled to cease all conversation, get in my car, and drive straight home. I didn't even bother to call first to check, I just had to be there.

Yes, I have been praying for my sons, before each event as well as after. God is ever present. Things happen. But God is good and He has ultimate control. He will not necessarily suspend the natural laws of the universe just so His children will not have to experience pain, but He is near. How can one make a logical argument for the sovereignty of God in the midst of emotional upheaval? For me, right now, that doesn't matter. I can't explain it, but I trust Him to carry us through the accidents of dropped hammers, slick floors, and uncontrollable skateboards. And more.

Even if Rufus can't wear a nurse's cap, God is there.

What's Tomorrow?

I've been working a lot of extra hours lately, and the dogs haven't been very happy about it. They like having me at home, sitting quietly with them or doing exciting things that involve going up and down the stairs. (Laundry has never seemed that interesting to me, but I guess there's always a chance we might come across a piece of raw meat or some stale cookies that need to be eaten.) Anyway, it must be boring to be stuck at home all day without Someone With Opposable Thumbs here for entertainment.

A couple of times, I have tried to tell the dogs that I would be home with them "tomorrow" and we'd play and nap and whatever then. But they don't have a concept of what tomorrow is, so my promise goes right over their furry heads. I meant well, but was unable to provide any consolation to my canine friends as I walked out the door to go to work again.

There's a story about some other folks who didn't fully grasp the concept of "tomorrow." These guys had a friend who said he had to go away, but would be back soon. When he went away, they couldn't go with him. He knew they would miss him terribly, but he had to leave -- really leave. It was going to look permanent, but he promised to return.

When he left, and they saw him go, they were absolutely convince that he was gone for good. Gone. Dead gone.