As a
result of my accident, I was rendered practically helpless for three solid
weeks.
People
cared, and people helped.
A few examples: 
My kids
were driven to and from school, choir, basketball practices and games, church
activities, piano lessons, driver’s ed, track. 
Etc. 
I was
driven to and from doctor’s offices.  Any
other outing was completely out of the question.
People
bought and delivered groceries, at times refusing to let me write reimbursement
checks.
My mom
did — and still does — more than I could ever list.
People brought me stuff.

Here’s a partial list (emphasis on partial, as I could never remember everything):

One Monday
morning at 8 a.m., Rob informed me that he needed a pair of track shoes with
spikes – which he didn’t yet own — by the time his track period began in the
early afternoon.   I called a friend.   A pair of brand-new Nike track shoes was at
the high school by 1 p.m.

Dozens
of dinners for the family and lunches for me – always delivered by someone who
stayed to talk, clean or throw in a load of laundry.  At times, especially during the first week, I
would involuntarily fall asleep while talking to them.  They would then make sure I was comfortable,
finish whatever household job they were working on and quietly leave.
Sugar
cookies, 7 Layer Bars, Jamba Juice, an Edible Arrangement and cupcakes from
Flour Shop Bakery (world’s best cupcakes).
Bath
salts and cream to help heal bruising and sore muscles.
Pre-made
lunches for all of the kids to bring to school, plus school lunch foodstuffs for the next several
days.

A pedicure.  My sister Rachelle is the bomb (not sure if that word is cool anymore, but my sister sure is).

One to
two get-well cards (per day!) from Grandma and Grandpa Layer (world’s best
grandparents).
***Offensive
Language Alert:  The following contains a
word that made my 10-year-old’s eyes go wide, even wider when she saw how much
I laughed after opening the package. 
A stuffed
floral fabric doll with red X’s for eyes, orange yarn hair and this little
diddy sewn onto its belly:
Dammit Doll
Whenever things don’t
go so well,
And you want to hit
the wall and yell,
Here’s a little
dammit doll,
That you can’t do
without.
Just grasp it firmly
by the leg
And find a place to
slam it.
And as you whack the
stuffing out
Yell “dammit, dammit,
dammit!”
A
Willow Tree figurine of a woman dressed in white holding a bouquet of roses entitled “Surrounded by Love” (juxtaposition to the above-mentioned doll duly noted).
A
shower chair (albeit very helpful, it made me feel . . . well, old).
A walker
(ditto to above parenthesis).
$40.  A friend’s mother-in-law was visiting, heard
about my accident and gave my friend these instructions along with the money,
“This is for the girl who got hit – tell her to use it to buy pizza for her
family.”  My friend delivered the money
along with an awesome pulled pork dinner. 
We ordered pizza from Carmine’s (highly recommend!) at the end of that
week.
Although
every gift has been tremendous, the two (non-edible) ones that are used the
most around here are:
The
walker.  My boys delight in pulling the
waists of their basketball shorts up past their belly buttons while inching the
walker around the house in a stooped-over fashion.  
It’s great fun.
My new doll — always there when I need her.  We’ll be BFF’s forever.
My
brain fatigues quickly and sometimes malfunctions in curious ways (more on that later), so I have a ways to go.  But I can officially perform basic mom duties
like driving, making peanut butter sandwiches and throwing in a load of laundry
when the pile gets ridiculous.
Functioning
is great and necessary and all, but I find that I miss the company.  Who knew that there were so many selfless, remarkable people in this world?
If you ever
find yourself doubting the existence of good-hearted people, you
could always wander around a parking lot and hope that an SUV comes round a
corner and hits you.
Or you
could just give me a call (it’s the wimpy way out, but I won’t judge).
Either
way, your doubts will soon be gone.