Oh, yes, August.
That month that brings a sense of urgency to capture every last minute of summer. And we did, and still are, every chance we get.
August brought the normal excitement of Packer's training camp and Reggie's big day, and I will provide plenty of pictures of all the fun in my next post. But first a little reflecting on the not-so-good parts of life. Bryan and I had our first experience with having a child take an ambulance ride (which of course we made sound like an adventure but tore us up inside), hours in the ER, and an overnight hospital stay when Brett's minor cough progressed to a serious condition very quickly (very low oxygen level).
Amidst this experience, I found myself overwhelmingly grateful. Grateful for such an amazing son-he was looking on the bright side the whole time-from wild hospital bed rides to keeping the nurses on their toes, from amusing attempts to fill the jug in the bathroom to sneaking freezy pops out of the parents' lounge. Grateful my son has a dad who is strong and faithful. Grateful I pray to the One Who can and does. Grateful we live in a country where, even when we are on vacation, we are only a short drive from a facility that can provide really good medical care. And lastly, something I often grumble about, grateful for my insurance card!
In the last few weeks we also learned my grandpa, the one who gives my kids buggy rides, is very sick. We are all so sad about this news, but again, very grateful to pray to the One Who offers an eternal hope, and know that Grandpa is always praying to the One Who.
Changing the subject, but keeping in tone with not-so-fun August happenings, I must mention my distress over the events in Ferguson, MO. If I were a better blogger, this would certainly merit it's own post, even though I'm not really sure what that post would say. I certainly have no knowledge, expertise, or insight into such issues. To be honest, I'm usually so busy parenting my children who are learning to read and ride their bikes, and want to go to the park or beach or have a water gun fight. Sometimes they fight and sometimes they backtalk and sometimes they pout and sometimes my boys shovel food into their mouths in a race to the last serving of noodles. And the news is playing in the background and I am jolted back into the reality that my boys are brown. They have obstacles ahead of them that we have never experienced. And, just to be clear, by "obstacles", I do mean racism.
Once again, I am grateful I pray to the One Who changes hearts.
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