I've had two scares this week, one with each of my boys.

I say each, as if I only had two. The other one was just over there earning Student of the Month and stuff. 🙂 (Thanks to Alec's grandma for the sweet pic!)

On Sunday, Emmett and Sebastian were down with Eric at the shop, and Sebastian hoisted a metal rod, not realizing how heavy it was, and somehow in there it slipped and hit Emmett right near the eye.

When Emmett came in with a bloody gouge under his eye, I asked what had happened, and it honestly just chilled me. If he had been standing a little closer. Or if his face had been turned a different way. Or if he had been bending over. So many possible ifs.

That metal rod could have so easily left my baby sightless in one eye, and I couldn't bear to think of it. I don't know how many "Thank You, Jesus"es I said, both out loud and in my mind, again and again.

Thank You, Jesus, that it wasn't worse. Thank You, Jesus, that it didn't directly hit his eye. Thank You, Jesus, that we are home and not at the hospital. Thank You, Jesus, that my little Emmett still has both his beautiful eyes.

It drove me nuts to even think of the alternative.

Then a couple days ago, I had two very sick little boys. Fever and puking, for both Emmett and Sebastian. Sebastian had already been sick for almost two days, and every time I checked his temperature, his fever was pretty high but not worrisomely so. He was camped out on the couch while I held Emmett on the chair, and then Emmett started puking. He puked all over me; I put him in the bathtub for a while; we went back to the chair; he puked all over me; I put him back in the bathtub.

And somewhere in all my running of this to the laundry and that to Emmett, I thought to grab the thermometer off the counter and check Sebastian's temperature.

It was higher than I'd ever seen the thermometer go. Dangerously high.

I don't usually freak out over fevers. I have remedies that have served me well, and for quite a while I didn't even keep Tylenol in the house. I am all for home remedies that don't involve all sorts of things that are bad for you, but sometimes that quick fix is the lesser of two evils, and I was so, so glad for that bottle of baby Tylenol in the cupboard.

I shucked some of that in Sebastian, made him drink electrolytes in orange juice, stripped off his clothes, and put him in the tub with Emmett. I ran the water pretty cool, added apple cider vinegar and baking soda, turned on a video on the iPad to help him forget his discomfort, and hovered with the thermometer.

One degree down.

One and a half.

I got the complaining Sebastian out of the tub and resettled him on the couch, this time with a piece of a brown paper bag soaked in vinegar on his forehead.

I finished making supper, and he started talking about wanting to eat.

Who can resist noodles and meatloaf, I guess. Not my fevered, puking little boys.

When I checked Sebastian's temperature again at the supper table, it was down three whole degrees, down to hot, but not dangerous. Three whole degrees, in forty-five minutes or less.

Thank You, Jesus. Thank You that we didn't have to go to the ER, puking baby and rambunctious school boy and all. (Eric was still at work.) Thank You that I was able to get Sebastian's temperature down before it could get any higher and potentially do damage to his brain. Thank You that my sweet boy is going to be just fine.

Both those instances had me thinking of a few other similar instances.

When Alec decided he would jump in the pool without any floaties, and his grandpa just happened to hear the splash and was right there to fish him out. Again, I couldn't bear to think of how different the outcome could've been. If everyone else had been inside. If he had just stepped into the water instead of jumping. If no one had found him until they wondered where he was. Chilling, and something hard to forget.

Thank You, Jesus, for an alert and nearby grandpa.

When Emmett somehow escaped the supervision of both me and his big brothers and wandered out onto the road that isn't really a road but that leads to a road. When I found him, I shuddered to think how far he could have gotten if he had chosen a different direction. The main road. The train tracks. Why did he decide to head for the neighbor's instead?

Because that's where the puddles led him.

Thank You, God, for those puddles.

And when it was me who was the child, and my mom just happened to step out into the garage to find me silently choking on an apple. What a different outcome there could have been there, too.

I might not be here, nor my string of little boys after me.

Thank You, God, for life.

As parents, we do our best. We keep tabs on the fever. We remove the pool ladder. We lock the baby in the backyard. We make sure there's no metal rods lying around (although it could have just as easily been a plain old stick).

But in the end, no matter what we do or how careful we are, what it really comes down to is this . . . that our children are held in the palm of God's hand, and that it is up to Him whether they live or die.

And honestly, that is terrifying. The thought that it could be in the will or the allowance of God that your child die is terrifying.

But it is also comforting. Because I believe it is He Who nudges you to grab that thermometer on the way to the bathtub. It is He Who makes you remember you needed something in the garage. It is He Who urges you to check on the baby before you do just one more quick thing.

I can't always be right there everywhere with my children. I can't protect them from every little thing. But I believe in the One Who can, and I am teaching them to believe in the One Who can.

We gathered, me and the other little boys, around Sebastian's couch, and we prayed together that God would bring his fever down. And half an hour or so later, when his fever was down three whole degrees, we praised God together, with hugs and "Thank You, Jesus" from more lips than just mine.

The Lord gives, and He takes away, and right now, to me, He has given so, so much.

Thank You, Jesus. Let me not take Your kindness and Your abundance for granted.