This morning we welcomed a new 3-year-old boy into our classroom. He and his mom just moved back to the area from Sweden. His dad passed away in September from a massive heart attack. He was 47 years old. I actually met her (and the boy) in the parking lot, introduced myself and we all walked in together. She asked if I was aware of the situation. I told her I was and that we would do our very best to give this precious child a sense of security and routine.
Tonight my cousin lies in ICU, attached to a breathing machine and monitors, as his doctors wait for him to wake up. Once he's awake they'll begin to assess brain and kidney damage that might have occurred due to his aorta rupturing yesterday. Going into surgery to repair the rupture his doctor said if he made it through it would be a miracle. Joke's on him...we happen to be a family who believes in miracles.
Just like that...the things I've been whining about, the mountains I've been facing, have all been reduced to mere annoyances and molehills.