It's not really clear how he got there, but the general consensus is that he was indeed pushed. I remember the stories about the skin grafts most vividly, and how painful his recovery was.
I contemplated this memory last night as I consider my older son's predicament. I realize life is unpredictable and he needs to learn to deal with that. There are things he needs to own; but when the adults fail to communicate well with one other, things break down, and my son with them. He does the best he can. But he's still learning. And he needs help.
This picture somehow ended up in my bag this morning. It's a solemn reminder of my duties.
I pray for wisdom.
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