“I guess it’s a rainy day,” says Jasper.
He’s gazing wistfully out the window from the living room couch, where he’s snuggled in with as much LEGO as he can manage. Jasper’s left leg is in a cast from ankle to thigh. A typically active four-and-a-half year old, he broke his tibia last week in a fall.
It’s been a hard week. Immobility for him, too much mobility for me, as I’ve spent my working days driving all over the countryside. Mama has borne the brunt, but we’ve all had a hard week. Today Jasper and I have the blessing of a Saturday together at home, just the two of us.
The soundtrack to our rainy day is old vinyl records—Raffi for Jasper, James Taylor for me. Jasper slurps a smoothie while I nurse a heavenly second coffee. He’s building machines and explaining what they do in enthusiastic detail.
Jasper looks out the window again. “I hope everyone’s okay,” he says. It’s something he’s heard me say. “I just saw an ambulance go by.” I feel like Jasper has just uttered the Buddhist blessing: “May all sentient beings be happy.”
By the grace of God, we are.