It's time to talk about something other than the weather around here. Sheesh! Enough already! I became so excited that the temperature made it to 20 today, my daughter and I left the house without a coat. It was almost balmy.

While getting ready for church, Christina mentioned that she and Ethan would join me. I was surprised, as it had been awhile. It is not easy taking Ethan to church. We never know if he will be able to sit that long or how quiet he will be. The Sunday School class is not always prepared to have him. They like to have one person to devote just to him. As my thoughts pondered what the morning might bring a memory came in to focus.

Ethan is now 4 1/2. By next fall, he will be old enough for kindergarten. I remembered Christina's first day of school at age 5. Along with the usual worries of a first-time mom sending her first child off to school, I had an added concern. My daughter was going with her arm in a cast that went from her hand to just under her armpit.

We'd taken our vacation at the end of summer. Arizona, naturally, to visit grandparents and cousins. While the adults were enjoying some much needed conversation, the kids played happily in the bedroom. Thud! No screams or crying, so we figured everything must be ok. Out walked Christina. One arm was cradling the other. The injured arm was bent at a 90 degree angle right in the middle of her forearm-a place that doesn't normally move or bend. I don't think I've ever moved so fast in my life.

At the hospital, I found I could not look at her arm without feeling faint. I was sure the contents of my stomach would come spilling out at any moment. It didn't help that I was 10 weeks pregnant. Thankfully, she did not have to have surgery to put everything back in place. We returned to Colorado with a momento from Arizona-a plaster cast. It was heavy and quite a weight on her thin little arm.

The first day of school Christina sported her very decorated but bulky cast. I was delighted to see her smile at the end of her very long, 2 1/2 hour day. We chatted on the drive home as she told me about her new teacher, the activity centers and books they'd read.

At home I wondered about recess. I'd been concerned about the possibility of her getting hurt or falling and injuring her arm further. So I asked her.

Me: How did recess go? What did you do?

Christina: I sat on the sidewalk and watched the kids play.

My heart was saddened. Had I frightened her with my warnings to be careful? Was she afraid to play? Before I had a chance to ask, she began to explain.

Christina: You know what mom? I think I know what a kid in a wheelchair feels like.

Me: What?

Christina: When I was sitting on the sidewalk, I was watching the other kids play. They would run by, then go up the slide, slide down and then run by again. When they'd run by, they'd look at me. I think they didn't know if I could play or not. I think they saw my arm and were afraid to ask what was wrong, and so were afraid to play with me. So they just kept playing. I think that happens to people in wheelchairs. People are afraid to talk to them because they don't know what is wrong with them, so they just ignore them. I think that is what the other kids thought.

As I remembered my daughter as a 5 year old, my eyes blurred with tears. Here she was at almost 26, doing an amazing job caring for her disabled son, Ethan. Ethan who is nearly 5 himself. Was God preparing Christina at 5 for what was to come years later? I looked over at Ethan. He was laughing and playing with his puppy. What could God be preparing him for at this tender age?