HH woke me up when he got home from basketball to announce that he had sprained his ankle, which was evident by his loudly hopping around on one foot as he got ready for bed.
I'll be honest, my initial thoughts were not sympathetic.
Whenever I am truly sick, or injured and prepared to actually take it easy, HH has the uncanny habit of getting severely sick or injured as well, within a day or two. Now, we know that HH is pretty selfless and caring, so clearly this is not intentional, but I was struggling with feelings of anger and frustration when I got out of bed this morning. I kept reminding myself that this wasn't his fault and I know he loves me and that my Heavenly Father loves me and that this is all temporary and somehow everything will be okay, but then I would remember that I am supposed to stay off of my foot as much as possible and wonder how on earth this would work now that HH couldn't take over for me.
So, I only had marginal success in my efforts to think more positively.
Still, there was some success and I was able to get to the point where I wasn't angry with HH, so that is progress.
Then the kids woke up early and woke up Darling A in the process. Awesome. Now, I had a husband needing my help in finding ice packs and ibuprofen and a ride to work (fortunately, one of our neighbors works with him), two kids to get ready for school, one needy toddler, and a chubby little baby to balance on one hip through it all. And 40 minutes to get it all done.
And I cried.
Not my best, or my strongest moment.
But, have I shared one of my newer mantras with you? Setbacks are only setbacks.
It's okay to get down and discouraged on occasion. That is a normal part of the human existence. It doesn't mean I have to sink back into a bottomless depressed abyss. So, I let myself cry for a minute, then got up and got to it.
All morning I battled thoughts of discouragement. I'd work my way through them and be feeling optimistic, only to have them return and smack me in the face again.
And then I got on my computer and comments began popping up from my friends in New England about the tragedy in Connecticut.
And everything changed.
Suddenly, my foot and my boot were the furthest thing from my mind. I just held Baby B and Darling A close and fought back the urge to drive to the elementary school to pick up the other two and wrap them all safely in my arms.
This simple moment of Darling A finishing her first ever jar of sweet potatoes made me cry. Just thinking of those poor small children and the parents who will never hold them again in this life made my heart hurt so much.
When the older two were finally home, we had a quiet discussion about what happened, I hugged them tightly for a long long time, we did violin practice and then we pulled out a puzzle to work on together. I just wanted to be close and to love them.
My heart is breaking for all of the children and families affected. I'm grateful for the opportunity I have to have another day to work on being a better mama for my own children and to make sure they know beyond a doubt that above all else, they are loved. I know that every day I get to do that is a gift, but today I feel it so much more poignantly.