I'm NO Angel (And this week has been proof to me!)

This has been a long and difficult week. I have been struggling with my own selfish and sinful nature and keeping many awful comments to myself. But since I know what I have been thinking, I just am amazed that God even remotely puts up with me. On Friday night, a dear friend's toddler pulled a bottle of boiling water down onto himself. She called me Saturday and at least 6 times on Sunday. I didn't pick up the phone on Saturday, thought she was just lonely and I was wrapped up in my life and baseball games. Good grief do I regret that. We had a huge pool party for Emily's class on Sunday afternoon, so my entire Sunday was occupied getting the house ready and entertaining guests. When I finally picked up the phone on Sunday, Em sounded sad. And tired. She has 3 little ones, one only 8 weeks old, so I assumed that life was just hard for the moment. I asked if she was ok. She has limited English, so she told me "Henry sick. Henry live- how you say? We take Henry doctor night." I'm like HuH? Henry LIVEWhat on earth do you mean? So I assured her I would come by on Monday morning and see how they were doing. I thought maybe they all had a bad cold. When I arrived on Monday, she showed me with her hands how and where Henry was hurt and told me "hot water". I was like, "Was he burned?!" Another word she didn't know. Then she took me to the kitchen and showed me what had happened. I was like, "Where is he NOW?!" And she pulled out a paper with the name and address of the burn unit in Chapel Hill on it.
To make a long story short, Henry had been burned on one cheek, his neck and his entire chest and top part of his abdomen. His dad had ridden the helicopter with him to the burn unit and had been staying with him for two and a half days by the time I figured out what had happened. I loaded Em, the 4 year old and the infant up and we took off for Chapel Hill. Henry had just gotten out of surgery from his skin grafts when we arrived. His dad looked as awful as I have ever seen him. No sleep. Little food- certainly not the type of food he was used to eating( Rice and fresh vegetables, very few carbs or meats). By the end of the day, I had them safely tucked into the Ronald McDonald house for a good meal and a good night's sleep. Far too late in my opinion. Should have happened Saturday. But I was too wrapped up in my life.
And my attitude needed serious work. I felt like the loser in a game of musical chairs. The family has no car, no one in their circle of friends who can navigate the medical world, or even the English language. I HATED returning to the intensive care world. but I understand it. Someone was needed to learn how to change the bandages. I am good at bandages. Even on squirming, kicking toddlers. The nurses were so grateful to have someone who spoke English and understood the environment. So on Friday I finally got them back to their home. And have been traveling up to their home every day to change his bandages.
And my internal dialogue continues to trouble me. Why this poor little boy has never had the word NO enforced? He has pulled stuff off tables for a very long time. Groceries, dinner plates, toys. Usually is spoken to sternly, but is never removed from the room or spanked. Each time I think of that bottle coming down on his head, I think a spanking would be so much more merciful.
Each time I have to dodge his kicking feet while changing his bandages, I think that a structure of authority would make this so much easier. Someone to let him know that he is not going to be hurt, that he just needs to let the bandages be changed so he can get better. He calms immediately once he gets his way. He is NOT in pain, jut really angry.
And I feel like Atilla the Hun for forcing him through 10 minutes of screaming each morning. I want him to know he will be ok.
Not being able to tell him that in his language really stinks.
So. Difficult times. And believe me. I'm NO angel, no matter what people say.