Trying to make sense of it all

My son was hit by a car on the night before we were due to leave for Dallas, where I hoped to receive the medical treatment I've put off for eleven years.

My husband and I spent last night at the hospital where we anxiously waited for our son to wake up from surgery and helped him get through the pain.

I have had my moments of frustration.

But. . .

my son only suffered from a broken leg. It could have been much worse.

he's thirteen years old. He's still my baby, but he's not tiny anymore. I saw tiny children and their parents in the hospital.

if we had left on Saturday something worse may have happened. All day Friday I had premonitions.

he will get better, by the will of Allah. In six weeks, the doctor said, his leg will be as strong as ever.

I'm still trying to get to Dallas. Both my mother and my oldest son have offered to come back into town and take care of my younger kids while I'm gone. So I think I will get there eventually.

And I've waited eleven years. What's a couple more weeks?

I believe there is meaning in everything, but I still don't understand why this happened. Maybe I don't need to know.