Things have been quiet on the blog as I try to process all the brokenness of the past few days. When I lose my words, I’m learning to listen, and the process of showing kindness to my heart while trying to recover them is a bit tedious. It borders on paralyzing.
Friday was the last day of school, and it was routine for a final school day. Basking in the delight of Thursday’s successful program and anticipating the summer ahead, students were busy packing up belongings, playing games, and making final memories together. I was sorting and boxing and storing items to rediscover in the fall.
It was certainly different than a year ago when I was preparing for a wedding rehearsal!
At the end of our day, my charges loaded the trunk of the little car with boxes and bags and then squished themselves in for our final ride home together.
Life is routine until it isn’t, and my routine was about to change.
Parking next to our yellow house, an unknown number registered on my phone. I have learned to answer those calls when they come at certain times of the day, like right after school.
Mom, I’ve been in a bike accident. A friend’s mom is letting me use her phone.
My mind began racing to figure logistics and calm my worst fears. I called the number back to speak with the mom who had so kindly stopped when she saw my son spill and got details about location and assured her I was on the way.
In the end, x-rays confirmed a broken wrist, and steps were taken to splint, sling, and, finally, cast today.
That wasn’t the worst of the broken.
At the same time, a friend was living a mother’s worst nightmare, finding out that her son had been killed in a horrific car accident. This news would begin spreading via social media until it reached a teen boy whose first experience with death would be hearing the name of his first friend while at a party.
It wasn’t just a random name.
We spent a season of life together once upon a time.
So that’s where I am in the broken. Relieved that a helmet was on my son’s head. Hurting for those who grieve. Triggered by recent events in the news. Trying to take one day at a time, living in and with the broken.