Happy birthday, Abby!

A year ago, I said she was as spunky as ever.

That hasn't changed a bit. Now she's the spunkiest seven-year-old I know, and I'm still just as glad as ever that she's mine.

As we tucked her in this evening, she stated with a smile on her face, "This is the best birthday I've ever had!"

She's had some pretty awesome birthdays in her seven years. That's a pretty big compliment for this particular day. But it really was the best ever, when you think about it.

She had her traditional birthday breakfast date with Daddy (complete with smiley face pancakes, of course).

We went out for cake pops.

We had made-to-order heart shaped sandwiches for lunch.

And after ballet, we met a few of her favorite people for dinner at her favorite pizza place.

She loves her presents. But this birthday wasn't about the presents, somehow. She enjoyed being celebrated, and being loved, and we enjoyed making it happen.

At seven, she's beautiful, inside and out. She's grown up this year, and it's getting harder to ignore the really big girl she's becoming. She looks and acts older. The behavioral gap between herself and her brothers is widening, and it's sometimes difficult to watch. She still loves to play like a little kid with the 5-and-under crowd, but she also loves to curl up with a good book for hours at a time, and do sewing projects with her Nana and help Mommy in the kitchen. She loves to learn and create and make something out of nothing. She loves the joy of a finished project, and is getting better about tolerating the sometimes difficult process of learning a new skill in order to achieve something.

And that, in particular, is what sets my seven-year-old apart from the six-year-old she was. She's finally learning patience--with herself and with others. We've waited years to see this fruit manifest in her life, and it's a joyful thing to watch bloom. It's not perfect, by far. But she's so much more willing now to try again, or start over, or even ask for help. These are really mature ways to handle the things that we struggle with, and I love the opportunity to remind her of that, and to be reminded myself. There is still so much she and I have to learn from each other, and I fear the years are moving by much too quickly for us to get it all in.

She's softening, somehow. Her heart for hurting people and people in need and even the people she lives with is growing and changing, and the beauty is there, too. She wants to do for people, and provide for them, and share things that may make them happy. After overhearing us discuss some of Levi's hospital bills, she disappeared to her room and came back with $10 that she had earned caring for the neighbors' dog. "You can have this to help pay for Levi's medicine," she explained. I kept it, because her heart was in it. When she gives, she gives sacrificially, and to refuse her gift is to deny her the opportunity to use that part of her heart that wants to help others or bring them joy. She is always making little gifts for her dad and me, or drawing pictures of their favorite animals for her brothers to color, or watching after Levi to make sure he's doing okay in whatever he's doing. She cares deeply, more deeply than she has in the past, and I'm learning to navigate these new waters of emotion that come with having a heart like that.

But the pendulum swings both ways with a heart that cares deeply. She has the potential to show great kindness, but also to cause great pain. She knows what words will hurt her brothers, and she's having to learn to keep those tools guarded. She is learning the fallacy of "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Words carve deep scars, and those she uses and those used toward her are more powerful now than they once were. She is learning the truth of "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks," and is beginning to understand how her character is revealed in her speech. Her growing understanding of the power and strength of language makes it easier to apologize to her now, but I've noticed forgiveness doesn't come as quickly as it once did. There was a time when she could forgive and move on, as most kids do. But now she wants to know why she's been wronged, and how it will be different in the future. Her brothers are still quick to forgive her, but she is (sadly) learning the delicate art of holding a grudge that we adults seem to be so skilled at. I don't like this part of growing up.

She still loves learning most of all, and is never far from a book. She wants to know everything about everything, and her conversations are dominated with new information she's learned or read somewhere. She wants to do science experiments and make things. She soaks up knowledge like a sponge, and it is glorious to watch her process all the new information and new literature she's finding in the world around her. We finally made it back to the library recently, and while her brothers were browsing for animal books, she seemed a little lost. "Where are all the chapter books for big kids?" she wanted to know. I pointed to the wall of books she would love, with shelves spanning more than 20 feet in length and nine feet high. "These are all for me?" she asked, amazed. I love that attitude. (Yes, Abby, those books are all for you. The world's your oyster.)

Happy seventh birthday to our sweet, spunky Sunshine!

What we know

There's only so much you can do to keep a 2-year-old safely occupied during this many doctor's visits.

When this is all over, we might publish our findings so other parents can reap the benefits of our experience. Stuffing blankie in a surgical glove, chair spin contests, and painting your body with chapstick are just a few of our great ideas. There's plenty more where that came from.

What we've learned today (besides where all the best spots in the hospital parking deck are located) is that things are looking up for our little snake charmer.

The results of Levi's follow up blood testing are in, and it appears he has no underlying blood disorder contributing to his improper clotting issues. This is the result we suspected we'd get, but we're breathing a sigh of relief to have it confirmed. We will follow up with additional blood work in a few weeks to monitor the clotting factors in his blood and, hopefully, see some improvement in his numbers.

The bite wound on his finger is healing, and he's regaining a lot of mobility in the affected finger. We went back to the hand surgeon today and Levi has started on a pretty heavy duty antibiotic to stave off what appears to be the beginnings of an infection at the wound site. Overall, the wound looks better, and for that we are grateful!

So now we wait, and we continue to pray. We wait for complete healing, we wait for full resolution of the clotting issues, and we wait to get back to a normal that doesn't include so many car rides back and forth to see different specialists.

And as we pray for these things, we remember those of you who are praying alongside us. Thank you doesn't begin to say it. But we are so, so thankful for your prayers!

Reading buddies

If you ask Caleb, he'll tell you he can read now.

(If you ask me, I'll tell you I taught him to read last year. He just never believed he could do it.)

Now the confidence is there, and with it, the skill and the desire to read as well.

Thankfully, his sister is surprisingly patient when tasked with being the teacher's assistant. She's more than happy to sit next to Caleb for long periods of time and help him sound out difficult words.

Which is great, because I've kind of reached my max on how much Biscuit and Scat, Cat I can read.

Where we are

"Mommy, look!" Levi yelled from the living room. "Mommy, look! Mommy, look!"

"What is it, Levi?" I asked, moving in closer to check out the book he was flipping through.

"Uh-oh 'nake," he informed me, shaking his head and showing me the awful snake he'd found on page 43.

"Boo-boo 'nake," he continued, "No touch!"

Boo-boo snake indeed.

I'm not sure how much he remembers of what happened to him, or if he simply hears us talking about it. By now he's heard the story of his misadventure enough times that he's fairly confident of his superhero status.

While we were in the hospital, I kept him busy for a while looking through pictures of his siblings. We happened upon a picture of Abby, and she just happened to be sitting near the spot where the snake attacked. "I don't like it," he said of the picture, without prompting.

When we got home, I took him with me to get the mail one day, a trek that took us right past the site of the attack. He kept his eyes firmly on the spot where the snake had been coiled. It was fresh in his mind then, and I think he did remember.

But nearly three weeks out, I think the memory of the event is starting to fade, and is being replaced with stories of the event. I'm glad for that.

Caleb still tells the tale of what happened to his littlest brother everywhere we go, and is more often than not met with total disbelief. I have to tell the horrified audience that this is one wild story my 5-year-old did not make up.

Abby likes to make sure the story ends on an upbeat, and usually waits for a break in the conversation to interject with," ...and we're really glad our brother didn't die." She's very matter-of-fact about it, and it still catches me off guard every time. I understand her sentiment, but I wish she'd work on her phrasing.

As for how Levi is doing, the truth is we still don't really know. He's running around and acting like a normal 2-year-old. To look at him, you'd never know this kid spent four days in the ICU. But internally, we're still in wait-and-see mode.

We don't have any more answers from hematology about what exactly is wrong with his blood and what we can do about it. The test results should be in soon, and hopefully we'll have good news to report.

Wound care and physical therapy are being handled by a dear friend who is skilled in both areas. We are grateful that she is able to see Levi almost daily for follow-up care in our home. The wound site seems to be improving, overall, but a few areas of concern sent us to a hand surgeon this morning for a thorough exam and x-ray to monitor his healing. The x-ray showed no bone or tendon damage, and there doesn't appear to be any nerve damage. The wound does cross a joint in his finger, and he's still struggling with mobility in that finger because of it. Encouraging to grab things with his "snake hand" (as we call it) takes up most of our day.

The big siblings are definitely showing signs of weariness at all the attention being lavished on their little brother. It's as if Levi has suddenly become an only child--earning the privilege, in their eyes, of going places (doctors' appointments) alone with Mommy and Daddy, playing with special toys in the bathtub (physical therapy), and getting fan mail (get well cards) from friends and family.

It's been a tough adjustment for everyone. Bad behavior has been at an all time high, and the hubby and I are both still emotionally drained and short on patience. Homeschool has taken a back seat to physical therapy and doctors' appointments and trying to control chaos. The laundry is piled high and the house is a disaster. We've somehow managed to sit down to three meals a day, and that has been no small miracle.

Please continue to pray, friends. Pray for answers. Pray for healing. Pray for rest. Pray for normalcy.

And if you want to pray that I'll find some clean clothes for us to wear in that big mountain of clothes in the laundry room, that wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Rehabilitation

Here's a snapshot into what some of our physical therapy looks like.

It might not look like much to you, but those selfies were hard earned.

In order to see himself on my phone, Levi has to use his "snake finger" to press the button.

No snake finger, no selfie.

It's that simple.

Silence is golden

It is a rare occassion indeed to find these three boys in the same room without an accompanying cacophony.

And yet, here they are, so enthralled by Caleb's newfound confidence in his ability to read that they are willing to sit peacefully as he sounds out the entire story.

It is the quietest they've ever been.

Or likely ever will be again.

I'm the tooth fairy now

Last night she went to bed with a tooth under her pillow.

This morning, she woke up and found a quarter in its place.

(She knows I put it there, and she thinks the tooth fairy story is entertaining, as far as stories go, and we didn't destroy her childhood by telling her the truth. She was just pumped to find money in her bed. She doesn't really care how it got there.)

There was little fanfare involved. We were reading our story before bed, and she interrupted.

"Excuse me," she piped up. "My tooth came out."

Sure enough, there it was. One tiny little pearly white in the palm of her hand. She was pretty excited. This moment had been a long time coming.

Did I mention she had been wiggling this tooth for almost a month now? And that the permanent tooth taking its place is pretty much all the way in already? And that the sight of my 6-year-old wiggling her teeth makes me a little queasy?

I don't know if I can do this 19 more times.

How to spell it

We have a new spelling and English curriculum this year, and I love it.

Like, love it love it.

Seriously. I wish someone had taught me English this way. My daughter is systematically decoding the English language, and it's awesome to watch. We've replaced spelling lists with spelling rules, rules that actually make sense and are actually followed in the English language. My favorite Type A-daughter loves spelling rules. Mostly, she loves being able to figure out how to do something without asking for help. This curriculum is teaching her to do that.

Like when she tried to spell "quack."

"It starts with Q," she started, adding the letters to our word board. "Q always needs a U, so it starts with QU."

"Since Q always needs a U, U is not a vowel here. Every syllable needs a vowel, so the letter for the next sound is....A."

"A doesn't say its name; it makes the short sound here. The last sound is /k/, so since A is a single vowel making its short sound, the /k/ sound is spelled CK."

"QU...A....CK."

I think giving Abby the tools she needs to write without needing outside input might be just the way to get this kid to finally start enjoying writing.

I don't even like pets

We have these tadpoles.

Eighteen of them, to be exact.

Only eighteen, because we gave a dozen or so to a friend.

Adopting them as your own is the only logical thing to do when you find a bucket of water full of tadpoles behind an abandoned house. (Actually, I offered another alternative, one that involved dumping them in the creek. I was voted down by the rest of the family.)

Can someone please remind us what happens when eighteen tadpoles stop being tadpoles and start sprouting legs? Because based on the size of this little aquarium, we seem to have forgotten.

Escape route

Someone's a little tired of being cooped up inside this house.

And someone is not heeding the doctor's instructions to avoid climbing on stuff.

For now, that bandaged finger is keeping him from turning the key in the lock and letting himself out.

But I can tell I'm really going to need to start watching this kid more closely.

Snake charmer

While the kids have been busy with all their snake-related art projects, I've been processing this whole situation a little differently.

Everybody deals with stuff their own way. We like to commemorate tragic events with t-shirts. Admit it: if you had an excuse to wear a Snake Charmer shirt, you totally would.

This week, like the last, has been a blur. Nearly daily doctor's visits and trips back to the hospital for follow-up appointments have kept us on the go. We continue to covet the prayers of God's people and the meals they've been bringing. Both have held us together this week.

What we're learning from all these different specialists is that no one actually specializes in snake bite wound care. Save for the wisdom and professional expertise of a dear friend, we'd be at a loss as to how to care for Levi's hand and finger. Mostly what we've heard from medical professionals this week is "Hang on...I'm going to go find someone else to take a look at that."

The wound did have to be debrided yesterday, which we had hoped would not have to happen. That traumatic process involved a skilled professional removing dead tissue from my son's finger while reassuring him with the lies "It's okay. You're doing great. We're almost done." He screamed the whole time. He wasn't buying it.

Our follow up with hematology did not yield the results we had hoped for. The clotting factors in Levi's blood are still way off. Numbers that should have come down to the normal range within 72 hours of receiving the antivenom are still at three times the normal level and not significantly changed from where they were when we were discharged over a week ago. The blood clotting specialist we saw today is still hopeful that this is all a factor of the hemotoxins in the snake venom, and is sending Levi's blood off for some additional intensive testing to try to pinpoint what we're dealing with and what, if anything, needs to be done about it.

For now, we're supposed to keep him from contact sports and avoid climbing playground equipment to prevent any significant bleeding injuries that would send us back to the hospital.

Please continue to pray for complete healing from all of this. Pray for Levi's body to continue to fight the effects of the venom and for his blood to return to normal. Pray for proper healing of the bite wound on his hand. Pray for all of us as we try to get back to normal. It's been a rough two weeks, and we're all ready to put this behind us. Pray that day would come soon.

Thank you friends. Thank you for your calls, your prayers, your support and your help. God is continuing to show us His love and care through His people. We would not be able to walk through this valley without you.

Budding herpetologists

I've had just about enough of this.

But the kids are still processing, and I need to let them. I get that.

But I'm tired of the thousands of questions. Questions like "Is a copperhead the most venemous snake in our yard?" and "How quickly will you die if a black mamba bites you?" and "Can you help me draw a coral snake?" and "Mommy, does this look like the snake that bit Levi?"

We went to the library and, as is my practice, I released the kids into the wild to find their own books--three each, of their choosing. The rules of the hunt are simple. Don't ask me for help. That's what the librarian is for. As a reward for giving them that sort of freedom, we came home with three new snake books. It serves me right. 

We're all going to be snake experts in no time. This is one field of study I would prefer to have avoided.

Twinkle toes

She's come a long way since the days of dancing around the studio with plastic cones on her head.

My tiny dancer is growing up. Her graduation to Ballet II means she finally gets to wear the twirly skirt to practice. We've waited a long time for this moment.

A shoes-optional classroom

It will go down in history as the most anticlimactic first day of school ever. There was no special breakfast or box of new supplies. We simply...started school.

In reality, most things seem anticlimactic after your little brother leaves home in an ambulance and mom and dad don't come home with him for four days. That little adventure pushed our first day of second grade and kindergarten back a week, and that's kind of the beauty of homeschooling. Life happens. We roll with it.

In an effort to regain some sense of normalcy, we took our first day of school pictures, and did some math and language arts and reading and history that the kids seemed to really enjoy. Although I'm fully anticipating the wonder and excitement of being "back to school" will wear off eventually.

Abby's starting second grade, and I'm no longer able to ignore the fact that she is hurtling through elementary school at an alarming rate. Caleb is starting kindergarten, which the state considers totally optional, and so do I. So we're not going to overdo it this year. He has lots of reading, writing and 'rithmatic, and plenty of free time to play on his syllabus.

Caleb thinks it's awesome that he gets to do math now, since Abby spent most of the summer building it up as this really Big Kid thing he would get to do in kindergarten. Abby is excited to have Caleb joining her for science this year. Since we're studying bodies of water and swimming creatures and our science book is filled with sharks, it was kind of an easy decision.

School took about two hours this morning, and nobody got yelled at. I'd say that's a good start.

We'll see how the next 179 days go.

Art therapy

We're all coping in our own way.

Jacob spent the morning running around in his Sunday school classroom with a toy snake.

Meanwhile, Abby sat with us in the sanctuary and sketched a collage of copperhead snakes.

Seems Levi isn't the only one who is going to need some time to recover from this snakebite.

Stupid snake

 Many, Lord my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare. - Psalm 40:5

I'm afraid if I start at the beginning, I won't be able to finish the story. So I need to start at the end--or at least at the present--and continually remind myself of God's faithfulness as I recount the details of our week.

And right now, in the present, we are in a good place. Levi is improving daily. He's out of danger. He's home from the hospital. In time, with therapy, he should be as good as new. Right now, I know that one day, this will all be behind us. Just a very, very bad memory.

"I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will sing praise to your name, O Most High!" - Psalm 9:1-2

I have been asked to tell the story a hundred times in the past few days. By EMTs and friends and ER doctors and family and hospital staff and parents in waiting rooms with stories of their own. And it's easy to tell, and I can even get through it without crying now. But it's not easy to recall. I doubt it ever will be.

So I'll start with what Justin told the 911 operator.

My two-year-old son was bitten by a copperhead snake.

The gravity of those words is not lost on me.

Levi had followed Justin and others around the front of the house to peek at the garden. I stepped out front to bring him inside while I made dinner. What happened next transpired in only a few seconds, but seemed to us to occur in slow motion.

I heard a scream--that scream, the one all parents everywhere know requires immediate attention--and I turned to see Levi falling backwards. I got to him before he even hit the ground, and as I scooped him up, there it was.

Coiled up, five feet from my front door. A snake. As I jumped back up onto the porch I yelled for Justin.

"There's a snake. You need to come look at it."

He asked if Levi was bit. I scanned his body and saw blood pouring from his right hand. "Yes, he's bit on his hand," I yelled.

"It's a copperhead," he replied. "I'm calling 911."

As I tried to keep Levi still, I yelled for the other kids to come inside. A neighbor was walking by, and I flagged her down to come take care of the other kids for me.

Less than a 30 seconds had passed. I held Levi's hand tightly to his side, trying to keep him from moving it.

I prayed. I prayed more urgently and more desperately than I have ever prayed before.

"Lord Jesus, watch over my little one and keep him safe. Jesus, protect my Levi." Over and over and over. I could think of nothing else.

He was in so much pain. I tried to find his blanket, and eventually located it upstairs in the laundry room.

I asked Abby to try to find my phone. I wanted to keep her busy, and I knew I would need it. Caleb followed her, while our neighbor prepared dinner for the kids and tried to get them seated.

I heard Caleb's voice calling me from the next room.

"Mommy," he started. I could see in his eyes just how scared he was.

"Mommy, is Levi going to die?"

I paused. And at that moment, I lost it. On the outside, I stayed calm, and I did what I knew needed to be done. But inside, I lost it.

I had no idea how to answer that question. Because truly, I did not know the answer. I have never been more scared in my life than I was at that moment.

We have talked countless times about what to do if someone is bitten by a snake. We know to keep the victim still. We know to try to identify the snake to see if it's venomous. And when we've discussed it, we've always said that if it's a copperhead, we will call 911 immediately. It is because we had this plan that we were able to jump into action the way we did. It was like a fire drill we had rehearsed in our heads hundreds of times. We knew not to waste any time. Because with a copperhead strike, there isn't much time for a two-year-old.

I looked down at my 5-year-old who was frantically looking back and forth from me to his little brother who was screaming in pain in my arms. He needed an answer. And I didn't have a good one.

"Caleb, you need to pray for Levi," I told him as calmly as I could manage. "God is going to take care of him."

It was the best I could do.

Less than two minutes had passed. Someone was yelling for me to keep Levi's hand below the level of his heart. His hand and wrist were already swollen and bruised beyond recognition. A neighbor was in my kitchen putting food on plates for the other kids. Many more were in the front yard. I headed outside to find Justin. We sat by the road and listened for the sirens.

The fire department arrived first. They asked what had happened, and my heart dropped when I saw their reaction as Justin explained it was a copperhead bite.

There was nothing they could do.

Seconds passed, and we heard the ambulance roaring down the street. I heard one of the firemen say, "Metro is here. They'll take care of it." Someone was interviewing Justin, verifying that it was, in fact, a copperhead that had bitten Levi. He knows his snakes. There was no doubt.

Less than three minutes had passed. Levi and I were ushered into the back of the ambulance. With Levi strapped down and the doors shut, we were gone before the other kids even knew the emergency vehicles had arrived. I'm glad they didn't have to see their mom carrying their little brother into the back of an ambulance. I'm glad they didn't have to see their dad asking where they were taking us. I'm glad that sight is not one they have to recall.

It would be a fifteen minute ride to the hospital. It felt like years. I prayed. I sang Zephaniah 3:17 over and over and over.

"The Lord your God is with you; He is mighty to save. The Lord will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you. If you could only hear His voice, you would hear the Lord rejoice; rejoicing over you with singing."

Twenty one minutes after the call came in to 911, Levi was in a trauma room at the ER. The doctor raised his sleeve and marked the level of swelling above his elbow, indicating how far the venom had traveled.

Twenty one minutes. Later, a doctor would say the venom had traveled halfway to his heart, and would commend my husband for calling the ambulance when he did. I don't like to think about that.

An order was put in to prep the antivenom that he would be given. He was hooked to an IV and given morphine for the pain. For the first time in almost a half an hour, he stopped screaming.

Justin arrived. The doctor asked how big the snake was, and seemed relieved to hear that it was an adult, between 2.5 and 3 feet long. Adult snakes, it turns out, control the release of their venom, while juvenile snakes will release all their venom in a single bite. A smaller snake would have been so much more dangerous.

The nurses and doctors located a mark on the back of Levi's wrist that indicated an initial warning strike by the snake, with no venom released. The second strike, somewhere around his index finger, was the venom strike. His hand and arm were so badly bruised and swollen by this point that it was impossible to gather any more information about the bite. Later, we would discover only one fang mark, in the joint of his right index finger, meaning he likely received only half the venom the snake released in this attack.

The antivenom was hooked up to his IV and immediately took effect, stopping the spread of the venom and halting the swelling. With Levi stabalized, we were moved to the pediatric intensive care unit where we were told we'd stay for monitoring. They didn't give us a time frame.

Grandparents and friends were called on to care for our other kids and to pray for a miracle. Our pastor and other members of our church showed up to pray with and for us. We were tired, and scared, and emotionally drained. But we were loved. And we were lifted up. And we will never be able to adequately communicate just how thankful we were for the prayers and comfort of others.

Levi finally settled down and fell asleep around 11 p.m. We didn't sleep that first night in the PICU. We stayed awake, watching Levi's monitors, watching his chest rise and fall, and listening with joy as his nurse hummed familiar hymns when she came in to check on him.

We lost track of time on that first full day in the PICU. Levi was in a lot of pain, and was being given a lot of morphine to manage it. By Monday afternoon, he was on his fourth round of antivenom treatment, and was showing no improvement. He wasn't getting worse, but he wasn't getting better, either. He had little to no mobility in his right hand, but an occupational therapist explained that was likely due to swelling. He began using his left hand for the first time, and desperately wanted to do things himself, like turning pages in a book, holding his own drink, smearing chapstick on his face and belly, and pressing the bright red button to call his nurse. He did begin talking more, and we were able to get him to eat, even if it was just popsicles and chips.

Our neighbor called to report the offending snake had reared its ugly head again, and had been promptly slaughtered with a nearby shovel. We celebrated with a dinner of bacon and eggs (the only thing Levi would eat besides chips) and prepared for another night in the PICU.

By Monday evening, the weariness began to really set in. We had met with blood specialists who were running tests to try to get to the bottom of a clotting issue that they couldn't resolve. Levi had blood drawn about every 6-8 hours. It was excruciating for him, and for us to watch. The fact that his clotting times were three times higher than they should be, combined with the total lack of any improvement during the day meant another night in the ICU was inevitable.

Levi was exhausted, and still in a lot of pain. He would occasionally become very combative and violent, and the episodes lasted anywhere from 30 to 40 minutes, during which time all we could do was try keep him from hurting himself further.

We prayed for signs of improvement. We tried not to lose hope. And we tried to sleep, knowing so many were praying alongside us.

And big things happen when God's people pray.

After a great night's sleep for all of us, our Tuesday started at 4 a.m. with a blood draw to check Levi's clotting levels. We could tell almost immediately that while people around the world had been bringing Levi before the throne in prayer through the night, God had been listening and working a healing miracle. Levi was playing and smiling, and finished off two bags of potato chips while we waited for the kitchen to open so we could order him a decent breakfast.

Thirty six hours after the bite occurred, Levi showed marked improvement in mobility and swelling in his hand and arm. The concerns with his blood work turned out to be a product of a clotting inhibitor in the snake venom and not an underlying blood disorder, as one doctor had feared.

Justin and I were able to take turns going home to shower, and as soon as he saw me, Caleb told me he prayed that we would have a safe drive home from the hospital. (Oh, to have his confidence when bringing my requests before the Lord!) I assured him that God always hears, and always answers our prayers. But sometimes the answer is "Wait." Justin and I were confident by this point that we were coming home soon, but knew we would spend at least one more night in the PICU.

The difference in Monday and Tuesday was nothing short of a miracle. After a few more pretty violent tantrums, we made the wise decision to taper off the morphine. Levi had damaged his IV lines so badly by that point that the nurse had to remove them. This turned out to be a huge blessing!

We were able to take Levi on wagon rides all over the hospital, free of wires and needles and monitors. Being up and about, and at one time even outside kicking a soccer ball around, helped tremendously with his recovery.

We welcomed a number of visitors, which was a much needed and welcome distraction. We were learning pretty quickly that there is only so much we could do to keep a very active 2-year-old busy while trying to protect a very badly wounded hand.

His two favorite babysitters came by and were able to give him his first bath in days and entertain him with some new toys. Magnet letters, it turns out, are a perfect one-handed activity for a 2-year-old snake bite victim.

After our breakfast of potato chips at 4 a.m., Levi managed to stay awake for 13 hours, only to fall asleep 15 minutes before he had to have blood drawn again. He finally fell asleep again at 11 p.m. after a wonderfully busy day.

The nurses by this point were all enamored with his sweet little smile and sunny disposition, but they seemed even more excited about petitioning for our release the following day. In hindsight, I realize just what a rare occasion it must be that a child is discharged directly home from the PICU.

By Wednesday morning, Levi's bloodwork was slightly worse, but the hematologist was willing to discharge him since his overall recovery was going so well. We will have follow up visits to monitor his clotting factors, and were instructed to be careful not to let him fall or get bruised.

Our nurse, whom Levi was smitten with by this point, flagged us down on one of our many wagon rides around the floor to give us the good news: Our discharge paperwork was ready.

God is good. And we were going home.

We have played the what-if game a thousand times since making that frantic 911 call on Sunday. What if we had gone out to ride bikes instead? What if I had brought Levi inside while I made dinner? What if the bite had been more severe? What if it had taken us longer to figure out what had happened? The possibilities are endless when our minds wander.

But the truth is that God's grace is so evident in all of this. By His grace, we were right there when it happened and were able to jump into action as the situation demanded. By God's grace, plenty of neighbors were outside at the time to help care for our older kids while we focused on getting Levi the help he needed. By God's grace, we live mere minutes from a hospital that keeps the antivenom we needed on hand. By God's grace, Justin and I were able to stay calm under pressure and administer immediate appropriate care as we waited for the EMTs. By God's grace, the snake that bit Levi only got one fang into him, cutting in half the amount of venom that could have gone into his blood stream.

And while I am counting graces, I count the hundreds of people who prayed for our son and for us over the past week. The prayers, presence and service of friends and family and strangers have held us up this week as we have cared for our son under very difficult circumstances. From the bottom of our hearts, we are so, so grateful.

Levi is beyond thrilled to be home, and is improving moment to moment. Indeed, his rate of recovery is nothing short of miraculous, and is a testimony to the power of prayer and the God who heals.

We will have follow up appointments with occupational therapy and with a hematologist for some time to help him regain full function of his hand and finger, and to monitor the clotting factors in his blood.

I am beyond mad that words like "severe envenomation" and "hematologist" are now in my vocabulary. Neither Justin nor I have fully processed all that has gone on this week, and reading through our discharge paperwork and going back over all that was explained to us in the ER and the PICU is really bringing the severity of Levi's situation to light. Right now we are staying focused on his healing. I'm sure the stress of it all will catch up to us eventually.

But the great news is that he is doing well, and that God has been so faithful to us and to him.

I will never tire of saying thank you to all who prayed, who shared my updates with friends, and who called or reached out in some way. We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and the prayers of total strangers.

We serve a great and awesome God, who is able to do infinitely more than we ask or imagine. We serve a God who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all. It is God who watched over our son and saved his life. To God be the glory!