What a morning! Our dear sweet Grandma/Mother/all around amazing person, Elaine, gave us tickets to her Exchange Club's annual Pancake Jamboree. This was to be an exceptionally fun treat because Elizabeth had a friend spend the night, so we would have 5 kids with us instead of our regular 4!! We go every year, and every year cars are lined up for blocks up and down the street around the Fraternal Order of Police building where it is held. As we loaded all 5 children in the car, we noticed the sky looked a bit threatening, though it had not begun to rain. As soon as we backed out of the driveway, the rain begun coming down. By the time we were half way there, it was starting to come down steadily. I told Tucker that I'm sure the rain will have scared many people away, and we would be able to find parking right up front near the building. Well, I was wrong. We turned the corner to see cars lined up and down the road as usual. I, in my infinite wisdom, found a spot between two trucks on the side of the road and chided Tucker to parallel park in between. (By this time, the rain was teaming) My ever-obedient hubby, unfortunately listened. Before he could straighten the wheels of the van full of children, we were stuck in inches of mud! I was convinced for some reason, that I would be able to "unstick" us. So, I got out, in the pouring rain, to go to the driver's side. My adorable, little red and white ballet flats instantly sunk in 3 inches of mud! Oops! At this point the kids were already complaining about the smell of "burning rubber" and being scared of the now loud claps of thunder and lightning. My poor husband--that is just what he gets for following my brilliant idea! At this point I began to panic just a bit. (As did Tucker, if he would ever really admit it!)
But then, the Holy Spirit came into our hearts and instantly calmed us. It was then I remembered, God was in control of this situation, not me, not Tucker. God would find a way. He always does.
I left Tucker in the car, with the 5 kids, and I ran down to the building to find Elaine. She immediately gave me her coat, (I was now completely soaked) and had her Exchange Club buddies on the case to help us. One man went to get his truck to pull Tucker out, one man was directing traffic away from our stuck van, and a sweet woman, traversed up the road with me to bring extra umbrellas and help me get the kids inside. Once inside, Elaine took the kids and made sure they had their food and drinks (all while holding Patchy) and the nice umbrella lady was drying their hair off with towels. Soon Tucker had become unstuck, and his breakfast and coffee was brought right to him. We sat down and laughed at how crazy all of this was. As Elaine was feeding Patch his mound of pancakes, another Exchange Club member, came to her and told her that there was a tornado watch! We just hunkered down a little longer until we could safely get the kids in the car and home.
What an adventure!
Tucker, as if he had read my mind, commented about how we would have handled the whole situation so differently not that long ago. Instead of trusting in the Lord to see us through, we would have stressed out, and yelled at each other, and probably ended up scaring the kids. It's amazing to me, that when you open your heart just a little to God's light, how He shines so very brightly and guides you. It is such a comfort to know that I am not in charge.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Illness Induced Reflection
After what seems like ages of taking care of sick little ones, it seems like those awful little germs have taken up temporary residence in me. I am experiencing the out-of-head experience that comes with a bad cold/flu as well as those potent OTC medications. You know the feeling of which I speak...you're aware of what's going on but your a little not quite there. (although sometimes by not being "quite there" you are able to be where you should have been all a long) I refer to this condition as IIR or Illness Induced Reflection. It seems like in this state, conclusions are able to be reached and appreciated in a way that are often overlooked in a healthy functioning state. Some might compare IIR to being high, though I can not comment on that.
So here I am-- in intense IIR. As pitiful as I feel, the reflection is beginning to set in. I look (and listen) around my modest suburban home. I hear the sometimes loud sounds of my children and husband. I see stacks (and I mean stacks) of freshly laundered clothes on the hearth, waiting to be put away. Crumbs of whatever the baby ate for dinner, thrown from his highchair are now littering the kitchen floor. A calendar strewn with graffiti hang on the door reminding me of the unendless list of "to dos" that await me for the coming week. Ordinarily I would be unable to relax at the computer with such distractions, tonight in my advance case of IIR I find it all inspiring.
My modest home is MY MODEST HOME. In an age where people are losing their homes left and right, I have my safe, little cave to come home to. It is not large or fancy, the paint is smudged and the doors tend to stick. But this is my home. A home that I have, not because I deserve it, but because God saw it in His plan for me to live here. I hear the sometimes constant choir of voices. The bickering, the whining, the tattletaling--- I sometimes want to bury my head under a rock. But these are the voices, whether happy or sad, that God entrusted to MY care. Voices that I prayed for long before I heard, and that I think of every moment of every day. These voices I must not take for granted, because so many people are praying for little souls to enter their lives, yet keep coming up empty handed. As for those stacks of laundry-- they never stop coming. There is always more to do. The faster it gets done, the faster it piles up. This is yet another way that my Lord has shown His love to me. He keeps my family clothed and warm. We are able to wash our clothes and keep them nice. We do not have to wear the same thing day after day. We have the joy and benefit of being able to CHOOSE what we WANT to wear. And yes, the floor may be littered with crumbs that need to be swept up. This gets under my skin more than anything. But what do the crumbs on the floor mean? God has provided my family with food a plenty. So much, than when some is dropped, it is not missed. It simply becomes garbage that is to be swept up and thrown away. In a world where more people are hungry than not, how can I not look at the crumbs on the floor as a blessing? The beckoning of the calender will always await. It will feel like there are not enough hours in the day to accomplish all that there is. But just as my Lord has provided everything for me and my family that we need, so too, will he provide to us a way to succeed. When I am able to sit back and take a deep breath and see how God has never let me down, I am able to trust that He will carry me when I get weary.
It is all in God's plan. This I am sure of. So maybe God sent this illness to me as a means to tap into my wonderful IIR and realize the gifts that are before me everyday. The gifts that I'm not entitled to, but given nonetheless.
So here I am-- in intense IIR. As pitiful as I feel, the reflection is beginning to set in. I look (and listen) around my modest suburban home. I hear the sometimes loud sounds of my children and husband. I see stacks (and I mean stacks) of freshly laundered clothes on the hearth, waiting to be put away. Crumbs of whatever the baby ate for dinner, thrown from his highchair are now littering the kitchen floor. A calendar strewn with graffiti hang on the door reminding me of the unendless list of "to dos" that await me for the coming week. Ordinarily I would be unable to relax at the computer with such distractions, tonight in my advance case of IIR I find it all inspiring.
My modest home is MY MODEST HOME. In an age where people are losing their homes left and right, I have my safe, little cave to come home to. It is not large or fancy, the paint is smudged and the doors tend to stick. But this is my home. A home that I have, not because I deserve it, but because God saw it in His plan for me to live here. I hear the sometimes constant choir of voices. The bickering, the whining, the tattletaling--- I sometimes want to bury my head under a rock. But these are the voices, whether happy or sad, that God entrusted to MY care. Voices that I prayed for long before I heard, and that I think of every moment of every day. These voices I must not take for granted, because so many people are praying for little souls to enter their lives, yet keep coming up empty handed. As for those stacks of laundry-- they never stop coming. There is always more to do. The faster it gets done, the faster it piles up. This is yet another way that my Lord has shown His love to me. He keeps my family clothed and warm. We are able to wash our clothes and keep them nice. We do not have to wear the same thing day after day. We have the joy and benefit of being able to CHOOSE what we WANT to wear. And yes, the floor may be littered with crumbs that need to be swept up. This gets under my skin more than anything. But what do the crumbs on the floor mean? God has provided my family with food a plenty. So much, than when some is dropped, it is not missed. It simply becomes garbage that is to be swept up and thrown away. In a world where more people are hungry than not, how can I not look at the crumbs on the floor as a blessing? The beckoning of the calender will always await. It will feel like there are not enough hours in the day to accomplish all that there is. But just as my Lord has provided everything for me and my family that we need, so too, will he provide to us a way to succeed. When I am able to sit back and take a deep breath and see how God has never let me down, I am able to trust that He will carry me when I get weary.
It is all in God's plan. This I am sure of. So maybe God sent this illness to me as a means to tap into my wonderful IIR and realize the gifts that are before me everyday. The gifts that I'm not entitled to, but given nonetheless.
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