On Saturday Laurel fell off a tall slide ladder and broke her left arm and leg.
They weren’t severe breaks, and she’s not in a lot of pain, but the cast and sling are uncomfortable. We’ve managed to keep her occupied with playdough and other amusements, but she does make a pretty sad sight.
Last night, David said “Poor Laurel.” I know I’ve said that, too, but this time it hit me that it’s not really poor Laurel. She was and is in God’s care, and her accident is just as much a part of God’s plan as Lee’s deployment. This is what I told David, and I asked my other family not to say “Poor Laurel” or other equivalent phrases in her hearing.
Truthfully, it’s hard for me not to feel sorry for her. It’s also hard to balance being compassionate without being a emotionally driven. Why, then, would God allow it? I’m really not sure, but I do know that Laurel’s been spending a lot of time with her Grandpa, and that is a good thing. I’m sure there’s more.