We opened our home to a young man a few weeks ago. A friend of our son's who was in need of a place to stay. He's a lovely fellow. Kind, considerate, and generous. Always grateful for anything we have to offer.
We've been iced/snowed in most of the week. Yesterday the boys took my son's car to campus for classes, and then came home to get C's car unstuck. I was making hot chocolate for them when I heard the door fly open and my son yell, "Call 911!" I was on the phone at the time, so I yelled something to that person, hung up and dialed 911. The emergency operator was kind and helpful as I repeated information from my son back to the operator. Hearing the story as I was telling it. I could hear my son assuring C everything would be fine. "Don't look at, dude. Just look at me. You're going to be fine." I threw towels to my son and he placed pressure on C's foot to staunch the blood flow. We waited and prayed and offered assurance, all sensing relief when the paramedics arrived.
Later in the ER when stood around offering moral support, making calls, touching C, and laughing to ease the pain as the doctor's determined the severity of the injury. Three broken bones in his foot and a flap of skin sheared from the ball of his foot which required 21 stitches to close. One attempted departure from the ER only to return from the waiting room to rewrap the wound because of bleeding.
We opened our home, but I forget that means opening my heart too. He is okay. He will be okay. We are caring for him just as we would one of own, because we opened our home and he became our own.
linking up with Five Minute Friday