The blue stitches kinda grew on us. They've become our own little reminder of God's protection.
They've become a symbol of our rough tough little guy leaving boyhood and embracing his manliness.
And I really think Harrison just enjoyed all the attention they brought him and how often he was able to tell his war wound story.
But it was time to get them out. So we headed back to the ER and walking in the doors we heard the roaring sound of helicopter propellers.
It landed on the heliport outside the entrance doors. Paramedics rushed out and urgently sped an occupied stretcher from within towards the hospital rooftop entrance.
We stopped right there on the sidewalk and as a family lifted that individual in prayer not really knowing his/her circumstances, but our worried boys seemed very content to leave their care in God's hands.
All 17 external stitches came out without incident and we were heading out, but then alarms went off. The same helicopter stretcher raced by our room with paramedics yelling, "Young boy, hit by car!"
We prayed again. We later learned the little boy had multiple broken bones and will be ok, but we looked at our now stitch-less boy and found ourselves once again thanking God for angels and that it was just a row of bright blue stitches.