I'm pretty sure I've had a cold/sinus infection since December 1. It has backed off a little here and there as some kind of bacterial mercy move, but for the last two weeks (or something like that), it's been no nonsense, in your face (and nose, and eyes, and ears, and chest), Die Hard with a Vengeance. It even persisted beyond the power of the almighty z-pak, which I finished off two days ago.
So tonight, after going back to work for the first time in two and a half weeks, I wasn't really up for much of anything with the kids. Unfortunately, they can't bathe, feed, or put themselves to bed yet, so I couldn't just burrow into bed with an electric blanket and call it a night. I at least had the foresight to pull a big pan of macaroni and cheese out of the freezer and ask my awesome Henry-sitter to pop it in the oven this afternoon so that we could eat before 6:30. And there's the Blessed DVR to entertain two of the three little people.
The usual bickering and silliness ensued throughout the night. Nothing new, really. And the dog, that ridiculous dog that I liked so much a month ago, kept getting into the trash and eating Elvis's Legos and whining to be let out and then barking incessantly at the front door to be let back in and THEN trying to eat diapers and tissues and all other sorts of disgusting. And then bathtime with all three kids, water everywhere, Beans trying to drink the bathwater and lick Henry's face and drink out of the toilet and chew on the towels.
"I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33 -- Yeah, trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. It ain't just a Travis Tritt song. Or a Ray LaMontagne song. I've had more serious seasons of trouble and worry, for sure. These little things, like sinus infections and being alone a few days and needing to take care of the business of life on my own, they are nothing really, but sometimes the little things catch me and I get downhearted. The world hands me a little trouble. But, thank God, he's overcome the world. And you want to know how he did that for me tonight?
I was ready for bedtime tonight. Normally, each kid prays and then I pray, and then each kid picks a song. I thought I'd speed things up a bit and skip the whole kid-praying thing and just wrap it up with a quick "God, thanks for everything. Please help me feel better. Give us sweet dreams. Amen.", but after I finished, Lydia asked if she could pray for a couple of people really quick.
How do you say no to the request of a five year old to pray? Okay, so I thought about it. I mean, come on, the space between my ears is hollow and I can't close my mouth without whistling through my nose. Let's get the show on the road, here! I got trash to take out and a couch to get to. I let her pray, of course - a kid who wants to talk to God should not be stopped from talking to God.
"Dear God, please help **** walk. She's already starting to walk some. And thank you for..." (There's a girl in her class who has a disability.) Lydia prayed for all her family and friends, and then Elvis asked to pray, too, singing a song they learned at preschool: "Thank you God, for our food, and our many blessings, thank you God, Amen."
The prayers of my children shore me up against weariness and bitterness. They help lubricate the gears that need to keep moving until the trash is taken out, the dishes are in the dishwasher, the laundry is folded, and the kitchen is tidied up, until I can sink into the couch cushions with a blanket and a few Bible verses and ruminate away about faith and the power of praise.
So the other verse that has me doing my own praising tonight, even with my runny nose, is this one: "Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger." Psalm 8:2 That's right. Through the praise of my little ones, the enemy and all his trouble and worry is kept at bay. There's power in those prayers. I'm reinforced. Encouraged. Blessed.
Aaaand, ready for Nyquil.
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perseverance. Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Friday, September 16, 2011
Pedal through the Bumps
My kids wanted to ride their bikes to school this morning, so we headed out at 8 a.m. on the drop-off circuit. I put Henry in the Baby Bjorn, our new dog Jelly Beans (Beans for short) on his leash, and my travel mug of tea in my right hand, and the Parade of Wells headed down Phillips Avenue.
For the most part, sidewalks in this city are level and smooth, but I think it is up to the homeowner to maintain them, so there are a few sections that are less-than-perfect. Tree roots and frost have driven the concrete up in sharp angles, and driveways worn down past their gravel cause detours and slow-downs in our commute. Over and over again, I tell the kids to pedal through the bumps. Lydia understands better than Elvis, for the most part, and she's able to buckle down. When adversity comes, she stands up and pedals harder.
I think I'm a lot like Lydia. Out on my morning jog, I like when I make the turn from Budd to Katherine Avenue. I like the slight incline, the tangible strain in my calves and thighs, the sense that I am working hard, and when I turn again from Katherine to Mifflin, I can see the crest of the hill and push for it even as sweat starts to drip down the side of my face, because I know after the uphill is a steady slope downward, a chance to breathe, an opportunity to let my legs coast without a whole lot of effort. There is a reward for battling through the trial.
But if Elvis's tire hits the crack, he stops, looks up at me with a perfect pout on his face and waits for me to nudge him out of it. He might sit there all day waiting for someone to give him a shove. For Elvis, this walk is one he'll claim was uphill both ways.
You can't stop on an incline and expect to keep rolling forward. When you see a slant in the sidewalk ahead, do not slow down. Do not panic. Push harder, hang on tight, and pedal through the bumps. Pedal through the bumps! Elvis seems to get stuck at every one of these cracks. On the bike and off, he needs a push to get through. At lunch today it took all of the coaxing, threatening, and encouraging I could muster to get him through half a ham and cheese sandwich before rest time.
Sometimes he's lazy and just doesn't want to try harder. But sometimes, he's just plain tired, and the effort to chew seems too much because he's struggling to keep his eyelids from falling down. And so sometimes I'm like Elvis. Sometimes I hit my limit, and it just isn't possible for me to pedal through the bumps. Sometimes, I need a good shove from a friend, my husband, my pastor, my parents, my family, my God.
The beauty of our walk is that it just might be uphill both ways, but that means it is also downhill both ways. There's a climb, a struggle, a challenge, a strain, but there's also a chance to coast, to catch your breath, to appreciate the crisp fall air on your face. Sometimes this walk feels more like uphill all the way, and every struggle stops you in your tracks. And then someone with a little more strength comes along to give you a push over the bump, and that someone will be there again at the next bump, and the next bump, and the next bump.
Yes, persevere through the trials. And yes, ask for help when the trials seem like too much. One way or the other, you can get beyond the cracks in the sidewalk.
For the most part, sidewalks in this city are level and smooth, but I think it is up to the homeowner to maintain them, so there are a few sections that are less-than-perfect. Tree roots and frost have driven the concrete up in sharp angles, and driveways worn down past their gravel cause detours and slow-downs in our commute. Over and over again, I tell the kids to pedal through the bumps. Lydia understands better than Elvis, for the most part, and she's able to buckle down. When adversity comes, she stands up and pedals harder.
I think I'm a lot like Lydia. Out on my morning jog, I like when I make the turn from Budd to Katherine Avenue. I like the slight incline, the tangible strain in my calves and thighs, the sense that I am working hard, and when I turn again from Katherine to Mifflin, I can see the crest of the hill and push for it even as sweat starts to drip down the side of my face, because I know after the uphill is a steady slope downward, a chance to breathe, an opportunity to let my legs coast without a whole lot of effort. There is a reward for battling through the trial.
But if Elvis's tire hits the crack, he stops, looks up at me with a perfect pout on his face and waits for me to nudge him out of it. He might sit there all day waiting for someone to give him a shove. For Elvis, this walk is one he'll claim was uphill both ways.
You can't stop on an incline and expect to keep rolling forward. When you see a slant in the sidewalk ahead, do not slow down. Do not panic. Push harder, hang on tight, and pedal through the bumps. Pedal through the bumps! Elvis seems to get stuck at every one of these cracks. On the bike and off, he needs a push to get through. At lunch today it took all of the coaxing, threatening, and encouraging I could muster to get him through half a ham and cheese sandwich before rest time.
Sometimes he's lazy and just doesn't want to try harder. But sometimes, he's just plain tired, and the effort to chew seems too much because he's struggling to keep his eyelids from falling down. And so sometimes I'm like Elvis. Sometimes I hit my limit, and it just isn't possible for me to pedal through the bumps. Sometimes, I need a good shove from a friend, my husband, my pastor, my parents, my family, my God.
The beauty of our walk is that it just might be uphill both ways, but that means it is also downhill both ways. There's a climb, a struggle, a challenge, a strain, but there's also a chance to coast, to catch your breath, to appreciate the crisp fall air on your face. Sometimes this walk feels more like uphill all the way, and every struggle stops you in your tracks. And then someone with a little more strength comes along to give you a push over the bump, and that someone will be there again at the next bump, and the next bump, and the next bump.
Yes, persevere through the trials. And yes, ask for help when the trials seem like too much. One way or the other, you can get beyond the cracks in the sidewalk.
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