I was going to write about the fact that I don't have any fingerprints. It's true, I don't.
But the worst thing happened today. My sister Jane and her husband John (who we call Pete) were here helping me empty some boxes and put books away. Pete was carrying a box out to my car and one of my dogs pushed him or tripped him or something. He fell on his hip, and couldn't move. We thought he'd broken his hip, so we called an ambulance. We found out he broke his right femur in at least three places. He's in surgery right now. And I came home after he went upstairs. Jan and Tim, Joe and Cindy, and Jane's friend Deb were all there too. Deb is staying there with Jane.
I couldn't stop crying. Partially from guilt, I guess. One of my dogs caused the fall, plus if I'd gotten everything done they wouldn't have been here helping me.
Our brother Joe said, "No good deed goes unpunished."
Pete is just great though. He doesn't blame me at all. He and Jane both keep saying that it's just an accident. Pete has diabetes though and lives with so many consequences of that disease, so I worry about him.
Jane will call me tonight when the surgery is done, and I'll go back up tomorrow to spend time. In the meantime I'm praying.