I have to sit and giggle sometimes, if not.. I might end up in tears. Even through the giggling, I find myself teary eyed at times; and today, it was more streams of tears rather then teary-eyed.

Yesterday, we went to follow up with the hand-clinic for Elizabeth's hand. They wanted to wait until Tuesday, but I instisted that the ER doc felt we should be seen Friday. They were a little irritated at needing to fit her into an already full schedule, but the did it for us. We went and waited 2 hour to be seen. The nurse removed the bandage (very, very traumatic for Elizabeth; especially because the gauze was saturated and sticking to the wound). We had x-rays done and then the doctor popped in for a few seconds, looked at her hand and left the room immediately. The nurse was wonderful and even entertained the kids with bubbles. The doctor came back, introduced himself and sat down with a sweet, sympathetic look. The nurse practionioner said "mom, did you get to see the x-rays when you were at the ER". I told her I had. She then smiled and said "then you know what her hand looks like now". It took a few seconds to process it and then it suddenly hit me. The bone had become dislocated again and was in the same posiition, only this time you could see it in the wound. My heart sank and I simply asked... "surgery"... fearing that they would attempt to fix it there. He said "yes" and that we would head straight to Children's and be admitted overnight so that they could administer IV antibiotics.

Mark and been home only a few minutes (from his commute from Columbus). I called him to head back. I had Jacob and Ri with me. So he turned around and came back. It was not as traumatic as the ER visits. This time, they only had to poke her once with an IV. It was horrible because her fears are so heightened right now. They promised me that noone would even look at her hand until she was asleep in surgery. Most of the night, Elizabeth pushed me away. I had had to hold her fingers back while the x-rayed her injured finger. From that moment on, she was angry with me. She pushed as far as she could away. At the hospital, she sat in bed with me and let me hold her, but when it came time for the IV, she screamed "Mommy, tell them to stop... mommy, tell them to stop... tell them to stop." I couldn't tell them to stop and worse... I helped hold her down. After that, she wouldn't let me rub her head or touch her legs or anything for a very, very long while. By bedtime, she had seemed to forgive me, but when she woke up in the morning, the bandage around her injured finger had fallen off and someone had to come and put it back on. She screamed and screamed; begging me not to let them touch her. I had to hold her. Within the next 1/2 hour, we found we were going to surgery. She was still angry with me and not letting me talk to her. Everything I said, she turned away. I was able to walk with her to the holding room before surgery. When she realized they were going to do something again, she screamed and screamed for me and asked me to make them stop. I couldn't. All I could do is kiss her head and hold her close and remind her that she had to do this to make her finger better. They gave her some meds to calm her down (I think valium). She settled right down and hardly had a clue who we were or what they were doing. The nurse picked her up and walked away with her, and all I could see was a sad face on a very drugged up little girl. It killed me! After having to go through so much.. in her little mind, I had not protected her.

Isn't that so much what we do to God? In our mind, we can't understand why God would allow us to go through the things we do. After surgery, it took about a 1/2 hour or so for her to give us a smile. But within an hour or so, she was happy.

I have so much more to share, but I have a little girl waiting for me to play. We are home now. I will fill in more later.