My boys made it safely to their coaches at the tournament—thanks to my amazing older daughters, who had stepped in to be “mom” while my brain was still swollen and foggy from the concussion. They popped into protector–caregiver mode instantly. Without hesitation, my older girls stepped in like first responders. They checked and re-checked their “little” brothers’ injuries—because of course one brother was trying to hide a broken jaw so he “wouldn’t be a bother.” (Moms everywhere just felt their blood pressure spike.)
Then, as if that weren’t enough, they loaded up and drove them to their coaches (thank you coaches and moms who looked out for them and fed them all week!), so the boys wouldn’t miss their annual tournament. They didn’t flinch, didn’t complain—just loved, carried, organized, protected, and showed up in a way only sisters can. Only God could orchestrate such seamless provision when I had nothing left to offer.
Meanwhile, my youngest daughter was learning to navigate life on one leg. Her left leg was now zero weight-bearing—not even an ounce—because the titanium plate and screws were holding freshly pieced bone together. If any pressure shifted the fragments, we’d be starting from zero. Watching her hop, crawl, pivot, and problem-solve her way through basic tasks broke my heart and made me proud at the same time.
Finally, after days in the hospital, we were discharged. But… how were we supposed to get home? Our car was totaled. I had a concussion. And she needed careful, delicate transport.
That’s when the full power of community hit me—so deeply it brought me to tears, and honestly, it still does. Unbeknownst to me, the kids’ school—The Woodlands Christian Academy—had already created a coordinated plan to meet every need before we even knew what to ask for for the next 2 months. That school is full of parents who live like true servants… families who interrupt their own comfort to meet the needs of others. It is the hands-and-feet-of-Jesus kind of place.
A dear friend drove four hours to come get us—and because of my daughter’s medical needs, the return trip took almost double. She didn’t complain once. She just loved us. Showed up. Carried us. “May the Lord repay you for what you have done.” — Ruth 2:12
Those friends, those parents, that community… they truly are the Body of Christ. I will never forget it. So—we were home. But now what?
My daughter was essentially an 80-pound infant—needing help with everything. The next three months were filled with physical therapy, pain management, tears, hope, and constant prayer [Cue my prayer warriors again]. And looming ahead was the thought of her facing 8th grade in a wheelchair. Try telling a teenage girl that this season won’t define her—when to her, it feels like the whole world is watching and judging. But was she met with critical eyes or whispered gossip? No. She was met with joyful friends and compassionate staff who surrounded her with encouragement and love. And while I still have mixed feelings about the wheelchair races that broke out on campus (ha!), I’m grateful that even this unexpected path brought laughter, connection, and genuine camaraderie.
God bless those girls who showed true empathy and treated her exactly the way they would hope to be treated. I’m so proud of them—and grateful for the moms and dads who raised them, and the Spirit who taught them what real love looks like.
But we clung to Scripture: “By His stripes we were healed.” And God helped us receive what He had already provided. What was supposed to be 3–6 months of healing… took 11 weeks. Eleven!
Now we’re praying she regains strength and mobility quickly so she can hopefully resume sports next year. And may the Lord help me not complain about the extra driving to practices and games—ha! After what we’ve been through, even the hectic shuttle-life feels like a gift. We’re back to something like “normal” now. Each of us is healing, physically and emotionally. And hopefully, we’re stronger—truer in our faith, softer in our empathy, quicker to comfort others with the same comfort God gave us. And yes… hopefully much wiser drivers the next time a summer downpour ambushes the highway.
