Okay, so I shared in part one of this story that our boy had an amazing opportunity to explore his delights of language and Asian culture. He had a fantastic time, and was scheduled to remain with this group through the end of August.
And then he fell. A simple accident, carrying something and hit a wet patch where stone met wood. We don’t know exactly how he hit, but he broke his humerus into four pieces.
We received the call at about 4am our time on a Sunday morning. They had actually tried twice already to get us…once when the bone broke, once at the hospital. Now they were back at the hotel and preparing to drive him to the airport, a three hour drive, to send him home.
We started scrambling to find a flight for me. A fourteen hour flight. We worked with our international insurance. He was feeling pretty good, but he looked a little wide eyed. He was still grinning, though.
Then our insurance team got a look at the x-ray. Hold everything, they told us. Put him on that plane and his arm will begin to swell. There are nerves and arteries involved. They would have to divert the plane and there would be a very real possibility of having to amputate that arm.
Well. That got our attention.
That’s one of those moments when you realize you have very little control over very real situations in your life. There was truly nothing we could do in that moment to help our boy. We could flutter around and talk to insurance. We could make plans. We could arrange things…but none of it was going to do anything to mend those bones that needed immediate attention.
What did we do? We relied on those who knew things better than we did. We relied on the international travel insurance. We relied on the hospital they directed us to, and we we so thankful for the amazing team there. They called for immediate surgery.
And we prayed. And we called all our friends to pray. And then we prayed some more.
And this was not a desperate act with no hope. This was not a wish thrown out to the cosmos.
We prayed to the God who created our boy to be immensely independent. We prayed to the God who stirred the desires for travel and for experiencing other cultures. We prayed to the God who knew our boy intimately better than we did.
We prayed to the God who orchestrated this whole trip, and who knew the entire time we were giggling and planning and oohing and ahhing over his sill grin…the whole time, that this was part of the agenda.
We prayed, and then we trusted.
We did debate bringing him home early, and we did debate my flying out to get him. Then he said he wanted to stay, and we trusted some more.
And the boy went through the whole thing with an amazing maturity and humility. We received nothing but words of compliment for how he carried himself. He was still grinning. He still got to see the country, even though he did not get to continue with the English language lessons.
He made memories. He saw amazing things. He met amazing people.
I prayed before he went that he would encounter Jesus in ways that could only happen on this trip. I prayed that he would know Jesus better, and would know the giftings Jesus had given him when he came out of this. I prayed that he would grow in confidence.
I hope that has all come true. I know that he is coming home after having walked through his first international trip, his first broken bone and his first surgery. He did it on his own. Kinda. He was surrounded by wonderful people, and he was lifted in prayer by an amazing network back home.
Steve and I learned a whole new level of praying. And we learned when really difficult things happen, and I know this is actually fairly minor compared to what some of our friends have navigated, God shows up. This is new territory for us…sending our kids away from us and watching them navigate life. This was a bit of baptism by fire. But we’re on the other side of it, and I’m back sitting here in Chicago waiting for the boy to come through customs.
I wonder what the next adventure will be.