This morning, I am remembering a little fellow 3 years old, who swallowed a chicken bone.

God's Boys will be good boys!


We were at Grandma Camille's house, for a holiday cookout. Those days are much a blur, because of the Grandmas and grandpas who were in and out of hospitals and such. We had little time to concern ourselves with things, except making appearances, between ministries and work and homeschooling and ailing parents. This had been one of those days, very tiring. Having to visit family here and there and everywhere. We stopped at 120th. There was fried chicken and we were socializing as usual. Mom {my mom} said let's take a picture with Gramps{her father}. When I looked down, you{En} were attached to my leg and crying. I don't want to take a picture, my throat hurts. Oh my, now my mind thought that you were being sassy. Tears came to your eyes. Mommy, my throat hurts. I said honey we are going home now, let us take the picture and go home. No mommy my throat hurts. I looked in and saw nothing at the moment. We took the picture and got into the car. The whole drive you were complaining, among the other wimpers of the children about this or that controversy with cousins and such.
You were so persistent, that when we got into the house your dad took out a flash light so that we could see more clearly what was going on in your throat. Horror hit my insides, when I saw a chicken bone sticking in the back of your throat. Way too far for us to reach and it was lodged in there. I am glad to know what it is you said. I thought that was a very strange response to what was terrifying me and filling me with a constant thread of maternal guilt. Why didn't I get a flashlight at my mom's? and questions like these swirled in my mind as we got the coats back on and flew to the hospital. You weren't crying now, you had gotten used to the sense of that horrible thing. I was. Everytime I see that picture of you and me and my mom and Gramps, I remember the misdiagnosis of a hurried mother. I do love my son and I am caught, sometimes between responsibilities and can't diagnose the severity of the complaint, as I ought.
We got your throat xrayed and the doctor numbed your throat and pulled that horrid thing out, to our relief.
Remembering the mis-hits and the blunders of waisted time and missed opportunities are par for the course in middle passage days. I hope that you know that we love you and that our communications to you, in your young manhood is frought with the desire to see you live your life for God's glory. Learning how to take the challenge and communicate the intensity of the situation earnestly is the learning that we have to take from that remembrance.
You are cut from my apron strings, these days and you would no more eat a boney piece of chicken than anything else you don't like and now, maybe you understand a little of why you have this sense of concern at eating this or that thing.