I’ve been remiss in not following up with information about Joshua’s accident (“Rule #10 — Never go anywhere without a rope.”)
One broken pelvis, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, concussion to the point that he didn’t know what year it was or recognise his wife.
And now he’s an outpatient.
His recovery has been nothing short of miraculous (which, being a minister, he naturally attributes to an actual miracle — a judgement on which I will not put forth an opinion). Best of all, he still sounds and thinks like Joshua. The last time we talked he was busy analysing everything from politics to theology, and laughing as much as ever.
He still hasn’t got my get-well gift, though — something he’s always wanted: a sonic screwdriver.
Yep, He’s my son.