Ba-da-bop-bop-ba...

Jaymeson, Jayah, and I had sort of an incident recently at McDonalds.

Here's how it went down:

Jaymeson has just moved into his brand new apartment. There was nothing, and I mean nothing, in his kitchen. So before church, we took Jayah to McDonalds for breakfast. We ordered our food, and then Jayah and I went to the bathroom. We did our thing, and on the way out I stopped and said "On hold Jayah, I need to wash my hands." Half a second later, she screams and the door bursts open. I rush around the corner and see blood everywhere, and the tip of her finger is literally hanging off.

I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. I sat there for what felt like minutes, holding Jayah's head to the left of me and her hand on my right so she couldn't see anything, and then yelled for Jaymeson. He came over, saw the situation, and very calmly said we needed to go. I, like a zombie, followed him out the door to the car.

Meanwhile, everyone around was freaking out. And one genius McDonalds worker was considerate enough to ask if we needed a bandaid. No thanks, I think we'll go to the hospital.

Jaymeson quickly searched for the nearest hospital while I talked to Jayah and tried to keep her calm. The funny thing is, she was much more concerned about my shirt and whether or not I liked it, then anything that was going on with her hand.

We went to the closest medical facility around the corner and they informed us that they couldn't help. They did however give Jaymeson some gauze and tape and allowed him to wrap Jayah's hand to stop the bleeding. We then went to the Hospital a few exits down, which also happened to be the hospital where Miss Jayah first entered the world three weeks shy of four years ago.

To back up a little bit, there were a few rather crazy things leading up to the situation.

First, that weekend, the topic of most of Jayah's conversations was blood and death. She asked us all day long, if the laundry basket was dead, or if the tv was dead, or if her hair was dead (which, by the way, it is), etc. She even told me herself that as long as something had blood in it, it's alive. Weird.

Second, as Jayah and I were headed to the bathroom on that fateful day, Jaymeson imagined something crazy happening. He said he turned around and saw the man who happened to be the one to push the bathroom door open to free Jayah's hand. He imagined that as we were leaving the bathroom, that man was going to knock jayah out and run off with me. He was in the process of imagining how we would have reacted when he heard jayah cry and me yelling for him. Even weirder, right?

Turns out, Jayah and her poor little finger are going to be fine. She lost the tip of it. They had to shorten it just a little bit, but the doctor said her nail would grow back and it could definitely look mostly normal in time. She was such a big girl! I think we were all proud of how strong and brave she was from the very beginning.

The very next day, I got to spend some time with her and she was pretty normal. Still a little loopy, but also her crazy upbeat self. And one week later she's still going strong! She was even in her very first play this weekend, "Annie Get Your Gun." She was the cutest little towns person and piglet you ever did see. ;)

After this little incident, all of the sudden lots of people were telling me stories of where this exact thing happened to them or someone they know. Apparently it's not an uncommon thing to slice the tip of your finger off! All of them have very normal looking, almost scar free fingers. So that makes me feel better.

For the first couple of days, I received phone calls from some of Jayah's family members, and some of my friends asking how I was doing. For a while I was unsure of why anyone would ask how I was doing, since I didn't lose a finger... but I slowly started to understand when I started having my own little series of nightmares about McDonalds. I think the blood all over my shirt, and the initial sight of it all really got to me. I think about the situation all the time, and every single time I see a McDonalds, I have a small panic attack. I've sworn to myself that I will never step foot in a McDonalds again.

(Side note: Jaymeson and I went back to the very same McDonalds to play out the situation again. There was still blood on the floor and on the bathroom door. 11 hours later... and they had not yet cleaned up the blood. We took pictures of the mess and also videos of the door closing, you know, for future reference. Sad thing is, Jayah probably didn't have a chance. That door was heavy, and although against their regulations, it didn't have a stop on the door to slow it down. Lucky for them, they agreed to pay her medical bills without a fight.)

One sweet friend at work noticed that I was having a hard time and talked to me about it. She told me that she sincerely believes that everything happens for a reason, and that maybe we can't even imagine a reason for it now, but there is one.

I thought about that for a long time. (Very unproductive day at work.) I've come to the conclusion that she's right. This did happen for a reason. Whether it be a small reminder to Jayah that we all have our imperfections and she's still beautiful and perfect to those that matter even without the tip of her finger, or that maybe one or both of us may have one day suffered from obesity as a result of McDonalds. But it did happen, and for a reason. Only time will tell.

I'm grateful to that friend for so sweetly reminding me that accidents happen and that God is in charge. How grateful I am to know and understand the Gospel.

Moral of the story: Don't let your kids out of your sight in any public restroom.