The Longest Hour at McDonald's
McDonald's. A plastic playground crawling in germs and swimming in carbs. The originator of happiness in a cardboard box and plastic toys that are neatly placed in the circular file as soon as you hit the door. It's also the place I spent an hour on my knees completely relying on the Lord on Saturday. Let me back up. Our family is enjoying watching 5 year old soccer Saturday morning. My hubby's phone rings and he answers it. "Mr. Carbajal? This is Captain E calling from Alaska. Your son, Jade, is in ICU." "Excuse me? Who is this? What did you say?" "Your son has some broken bones around his right eye. He is in ICU and we are unaware of the severity of his injuries. Depending on the severity, the Army will fly you and his mom to Alaska. I'll call you in an hour." "Huh?! OK, I'll wait to hear from you." I got the gist of the entire conversation as I watched my husband's coffee-colored, ...