It happens, you know.
Casey + running too fast + asphalt = the above.
I was out of town when this occurred. Kenny was the absolute best daddy doctor. After all the tears and "I want my mommys", Casey regained composure and begged Kenny to still go to RB's high school basketball game that night.
A man on a mission.
Courage and stongwill: our little one has it alright.
It got me thinking, this skin racing.
We all do it.
Casey is merely our spokes model/cover guy/logo if you will.
Yes, each of us, at times too many to count, are running too fast with our slick-bottomed Crocs smack-smacking a downhill pavement slope.
And then it hits us:
And it burns and bleeds.
The stinging is more than we care to feel.
Immediately reality brings us to the repercussions of our actions.
And we deal with the consequence.
Scabbed over and sore, we wait for healing.
Each glance in the mirror a reminder to:
We stand at the crossroads with time and medicine.
And I am so thankful, God is the Neosporin for us all.