“If she would just listen to me!” I bet I have said that a thousand times this weekend. We have spent most of our time playing in the pool. The majority of it was fun.
I did say… majority.
Exactly twice this week we have had to save Anna Kate from drowning. Do it to me once, shame on you, do it to me twice... shame on me.
I know, and to avoid any more incidents, I have already purchased her some floaties and a ski belt. I have declared defeat. I cannot do this all summer. I do not want to be the mom at the pool, in the corner, eating glue.
It is always the same thing with her. She is just fine( honestly for hours) then all of a sudden she gets in water that is just too deep.
Her problem is a typical childhood phenomenon. Short kids who can’t swim, don’t do well in deep water. An epiphany…. I know.
She is great as long as she can touch. The world is fine as long as SHE is in control. Everything is fun and sunshine until she can’t reach the bottom of the pool any longer.
She panics when she loses her footing.
Her problem is simple. In her little mind, Anna Kate can swim. She scoffs at my warning , even when I stand on the edge and point out specifically where safety lies. She can swim. The other kids are doing it. She can swim. She doesn’t need my help, or my advice. I tell her that her skill has not yet been honed, and caution is her friend. Her tenacity is fearless. No need to listen to me. While I question her ability, she has decided that she can swim. What do I know? I am an overprotective parent in her eyes…… until. She struggles, she takes in water, and she chokes and gags and screams for me.
Amazing! Mommy was right!” Now, like any mother would, I jump in and I save her. But, I would really rather not have all that drama. Poolside is meant to be relaxing. If she could just stay in the boundaries that I set up, we wouldn’t need all the splashing.
I am going to get really honest with you here… I think that sometimes we do that with God. At least , I know I do. God says “Stay here. It is where I want you”. And we half- way listen. We stay “around” where we are supposed to be. We take on roles, responsibilities, and relationships that were never meant for us. We begin drowning in water that we had no business swimming in anyway.
Sometimes we realize it before it gets too far and we go back to safety. Other times, we push the boundaries .We think we can handle it. We have it all under control and then we take one step too far. We begin to go under, and all we can do is wait and hope that God is going to jump in and save us once again.
“I can do this. I can . I got this one God!” All the while He is saying, “ Don’t go there. You are not ready. That water is deeper than you think. Stay in my safety. You can’t handle it over there.”
And so I go….. Anyway.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t have any floaties. Unlike the simple solution for Anna Kate’s defiance, God has not designed something to keep me safe when I chose to get in over my head. Disobedience, by nature, will get you in trouble.
True, I know God will come to my rescue, but I may have to gasp and choke and scream a while. The junk I have to take in will ruin my experience. I won’t drown, but I won’t come out completely unharmed either.
So I sat there at the pool thinking about this. God tends to show up with me at the oddest times. Because it is summer and my brain is on vacation, He made the connections right there on the side of the pool for me.
He showed me how I was, at times, no different than that little girl. The same little girl that was about to get her pretty little head pinched off by her exasperated mother.
I could hear myself saying to Anna Katherine: “Girl, I wish you would just listen to me! This would be a lot more fun if you would just do what I said.”
As those words were echoing back to me, I could almost hear HIS voice when He smiled and said………
“ Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Held
One of the joys in my life is my precious daughter Anna Katherine (Anna Kate). She is my gift from the hand of God given to us 7 years ago. Her smile is contagious and her heart is pure. She is the picture of a wonderful little lady with the exception of one small detail. Anna Kate likes to play WWE Smackdown with her daddy.
It is not unusual to hear shrieking coming from inside of my house. There is a blessed noise of childhood that is just expected. But some sounds, they just stop you cold.
This past summer Anna Kate and her daddy got just a little too rough. She jumped to “Do a BIG ONE on him.” Well, she is a Millraney. She inherited our “Moments.” Poor Anna Kate….she missed
What was meant to be her greatest feat, quickly evolved into her worst nightmare. With all the might she could possibly muster, she forced herself into the air. Unfortunately, her trajectory was off ever so slightly. Her new target was now the small nightstand in the corner.
Her injury was painful, yet superficial. Nothing a few stitches and a trip to McDonald’s© wouldn’t cure.
Now understand please that she had never been to the hospital, never seen stitches, and had no idea what was in store.
I waited until the last possible second to tell her. The thing that would ultimately heal her… was going to hurt.
Relieved that the truth was finally out, I thought the worst was over. Then, they looked at me and said “Mom, it is YOUR job hold her.”
You know, some memories slip away so quickly, while others are forever burned into your soul.
Her pleas still haunt me: “Mommy, is it going to hurt? Mommy, I am scared!” Then they covered her face.
She was now totally surrounded by darkness.
“Mommy, make it stop!
Mommy, is it over? You said it would be over soon!
This hurts too much.'"
She begged “Mommy, hold me! Please mommy, I can’t hear you anymore. It’s dark, mommy! Hold me Mommy! Are you there?”
I stood there with tears rolling down my face. My heart was absolutely breaking because I knew at any moment, I COULD STOP IT. I could end it,
but my heart chose not to.
I chose what I knew she needed. What would help her, and ultimately heal her....
I allowed her to go through the pain.
Looking back, I am amazed at how God allows circumstances in our lives to teach us something. This event was so shockingly parallel to my own experience that the similarities could only be described as Divine.
I too, had moments of absolute fear and desperation. March 5, 2009, I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm corrected only by life-threatening (open skull) brain surgery.
I remember my own experience. My conversation with God mirrored my own daughter’s pleas:
You have an aneurysm......" Oh, God...This hurts, I am scared.”
You have to have surgery ...very dangerous surgery.
“God, make it stop.”
You might be blind....... “God is it over?”
You might not make it. “God, You said it would be over soon.”
My kids need a mom. I want to watch them grow up.
“It hurts too much”.
My husband needs me… “ Just, Please make it stop.”
I don’t want to die.
The only calm in my soul was a small voice that whispered,
“Niki, Do you trust me?
Not for what I will do, but for Who I Am?
I know it hurts; I know you are scared. I am NOT going to take it away, but
I WILL HOLD YOU.
While you may not understand what is going on, I DO.”
The night before my surgery, I had resolved that I had to RELINQUISH control. I had to trust that whether God answered me or not, HE was listening.
I do get so amused with God at times. It seems like when I beg and beg for a specific request, I never seem to get it. It is always when I stop telling God what to do......that HE always does what I need.
My hospital room was quiet and still as only late night in a hospital room can be. To my right, my husband, Gary was sleeping. Restless and wondering about the events of the next day.... I was given such an incredible blessing.
Sometimes it still seems like a dream. But, one that I would never want to wake up from.
At the foot of my bed, back to me, was someone sitting there. I never saw their face; they never said a word. Just had their hand on my leg, sitting quietly.
Now some people thing I am weird, some people think it was the drugs.
but ....In that moment, I experienced such a peace. I realized quickly,
that I knew nothing of Holy.
Jesus didn’t assure me of anything except HIS presence. I needed nothing else. In that room, in my greatest hour of despair, I experienced my Savior.
What a glorious experience.......... to just be Held.
Not knowing the outcome, not lessening the pain, or erasing the fear. Just asking me to rest in His presence. The fears of this world simply faded away.
People ask me all the time if my story is true. If I ever ask "Why?"
How could someone who has been a Christian since childhood, a minister’s wife, a servant, be asked to go through this? Where was my promise of abundant life?
“Your life has been one of surrender, yet in your darkest hour, God abandoned you.”
I just smile. I can't explain it, and there is no way they will ever understand.....
I wasn’t abandoned.
I was Held.
It is not unusual to hear shrieking coming from inside of my house. There is a blessed noise of childhood that is just expected. But some sounds, they just stop you cold.
This past summer Anna Kate and her daddy got just a little too rough. She jumped to “Do a BIG ONE on him.” Well, she is a Millraney. She inherited our “Moments.” Poor Anna Kate….she missed
What was meant to be her greatest feat, quickly evolved into her worst nightmare. With all the might she could possibly muster, she forced herself into the air. Unfortunately, her trajectory was off ever so slightly. Her new target was now the small nightstand in the corner.
Her injury was painful, yet superficial. Nothing a few stitches and a trip to McDonald’s© wouldn’t cure.
Now understand please that she had never been to the hospital, never seen stitches, and had no idea what was in store.
I waited until the last possible second to tell her. The thing that would ultimately heal her… was going to hurt.
Relieved that the truth was finally out, I thought the worst was over. Then, they looked at me and said “Mom, it is YOUR job hold her.”
You know, some memories slip away so quickly, while others are forever burned into your soul.
Her pleas still haunt me: “Mommy, is it going to hurt? Mommy, I am scared!” Then they covered her face.
She was now totally surrounded by darkness.
“Mommy, make it stop!
Mommy, is it over? You said it would be over soon!
This hurts too much.'"
She begged “Mommy, hold me! Please mommy, I can’t hear you anymore. It’s dark, mommy! Hold me Mommy! Are you there?”
I stood there with tears rolling down my face. My heart was absolutely breaking because I knew at any moment, I COULD STOP IT. I could end it,
but my heart chose not to.
I chose what I knew she needed. What would help her, and ultimately heal her....
I allowed her to go through the pain.
Looking back, I am amazed at how God allows circumstances in our lives to teach us something. This event was so shockingly parallel to my own experience that the similarities could only be described as Divine.
I too, had moments of absolute fear and desperation. March 5, 2009, I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm corrected only by life-threatening (open skull) brain surgery.
I remember my own experience. My conversation with God mirrored my own daughter’s pleas:
You have an aneurysm......" Oh, God...This hurts, I am scared.”
You have to have surgery ...very dangerous surgery.
“God, make it stop.”
You might be blind....... “God is it over?”
You might not make it. “God, You said it would be over soon.”
My kids need a mom. I want to watch them grow up.
“It hurts too much”.
My husband needs me… “ Just, Please make it stop.”
I don’t want to die.
The only calm in my soul was a small voice that whispered,
“Niki, Do you trust me?
Not for what I will do, but for Who I Am?
I know it hurts; I know you are scared. I am NOT going to take it away, but
I WILL HOLD YOU.
While you may not understand what is going on, I DO.”
The night before my surgery, I had resolved that I had to RELINQUISH control. I had to trust that whether God answered me or not, HE was listening.
I do get so amused with God at times. It seems like when I beg and beg for a specific request, I never seem to get it. It is always when I stop telling God what to do......that HE always does what I need.
My hospital room was quiet and still as only late night in a hospital room can be. To my right, my husband, Gary was sleeping. Restless and wondering about the events of the next day.... I was given such an incredible blessing.
Sometimes it still seems like a dream. But, one that I would never want to wake up from.
At the foot of my bed, back to me, was someone sitting there. I never saw their face; they never said a word. Just had their hand on my leg, sitting quietly.
Now some people thing I am weird, some people think it was the drugs.
but ....In that moment, I experienced such a peace. I realized quickly,
that I knew nothing of Holy.
Jesus didn’t assure me of anything except HIS presence. I needed nothing else. In that room, in my greatest hour of despair, I experienced my Savior.
What a glorious experience.......... to just be Held.
Not knowing the outcome, not lessening the pain, or erasing the fear. Just asking me to rest in His presence. The fears of this world simply faded away.
People ask me all the time if my story is true. If I ever ask "Why?"
How could someone who has been a Christian since childhood, a minister’s wife, a servant, be asked to go through this? Where was my promise of abundant life?
“Your life has been one of surrender, yet in your darkest hour, God abandoned you.”
I just smile. I can't explain it, and there is no way they will ever understand.....
I wasn’t abandoned.
I was Held.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Death of Super Mom...
Somebody recently asked Lindsey to tell what her favorite Bible verse was. She said, and I quote, “Whatever that one about God knowing all about you, and loving you anyway. You know that one that is on my mom’s tattoo on her foot.” (Ps. 139) ... Not exactly the Sunday school answer you expect from the minister’s kid.
I accepted long ago that I am more of a Laurelai Gilmore than a June Cleaver. I have the pearls, but I would rather wear the red high heels. I am a minister’s wife who loves Jesus, but I have never really fit into the model of what society says that should look like. My mom has jokingly said, “She doesn’t fit in a box, I am not sure if she can even find it.”
I can’t cook. I don’t sew. My children should be in forever detention over the times I have forgotten to sign that Conduct Calendar. I would rather mow the grass, than do the laundry. I will choose to play basketball over Barbies any day. Sadly, as of this typing, the dog has more food than the people at my house. Oh, and one more thing.....my kids refer to me as Psycho-Billy-Ninja when I get mad.
This is just not a great set up for my ego on Mother’s Day. On Mother’s Day we hear all about the attributes of a good Mom. All the stories of homemaking, culinary accolades, costume making, sacrificial doing, car pooling and scrap booking.
I smile sweetly and think, “My poor girls.”
I had a mom call me on Friday to apologize for being a bad mother because she forgot to give her child money to buy candy on Field Day. He didn’t get his Skittles money and she was in tears.
This started me thinking. What are we doing to ourselves? Who made the standard which we are killing ourselves to achieve? Who came up with "Super Mom" anyway? The one who can do it all, be it all, and make it all.
I find myself, and other mothers disappointed at our inability to be perfect. Just typing that sentence makes me stop and think. When did I get this idea that perfection could be attained? Jesus had an imperfect mother. What makes me think I am going to do better than the mother of God? At least her kid did what she said, every time, the first time, with no death threats involved.
Last time I checked, God didn’t have a check off sheet for the qualifications of a good mother. It has always been more like: Love Me first. Love Me best..... Then love them.
I looked up the role of “Mother” in the dictionary (sorry, but I am a teacher) and I found something: “Because of the complexity and differences of a mother's social, cultural, and religious definitions and roles, it is challenging to define a mother to suit a universally accepted definition.”
I LOVE THAT! What a relief! It is a role that cannot be defined! Maybe, my girls aren’t in as much trouble as I first thought.
God knew what He was doing when He gave me these little girls. It is no accident that I am the mother that was chosen for them. I like that. I can rest in it. I may not be the text book model for Motherhood, but I have arrived at the simple place that God knows me, God loves me, (Psalm 139) and He knew the mother I would be. He leads me, and all my faults, to project His image to my children.
I think it is time, as mothers that we give ourselves a break, or at least a chance…. Not apathy, because God wants OUR best. Just know that OUR best is not supposed to be dictated by others expectations of who they think we need to be.
My kitchen may very well be used as a dance floor before a restaurant. My car is not clean. I order Cracker Barrel on holidays. We have counted playing outside in the sprinkler… a bath. We watch way too much TV. We could make a new reality show out of the events inside our home. Bon Jovi’s “ Living on a Prayer” could be the answer if you asked Anna Kate what her favorite Praise and Worship song is. And yes, I have accepted the idea that Chic- Fil – A is now a food group in our family.
Honestly, I am OK with that.
My kids know I am not perfect, but they know I love them with all my heart.
...... and really, their opinion is the only one that counts anyway.
Like all mothers today, I gave the usual answer... “Nothing”, when asked what I wanted for Mother’s Day, but that is not exactly true.
Secretly, I still have one small request:
Could somebody please kill “Super Mom?” This whole Mom thing would be so much easier if she just wasn’t around.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Bless this Mess…
There are some things in life you can just count on. Death, taxes, and the Millraney family arguing on Sunday morning. I hate Sunday mornings for one reason. This “Super Bowl” of the week for my minister husband puts me at home by myself to wrangle the savages. Let me put it this way; we play our girls in a man to man defense every morning. When Gary is gone, my zone defense is somewhat lacking.
Yesterday was no exception. The girls wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t get dressed, and there was this MESS everywhere! The fun of a carefree Saturday was showing.
Now, the rule at our house is simple. You don’t walk out the door unless everything is clean. I have always been a “fire path” kind of girl. But…Gary likes the house clean. I like it clean too. I gladly go along with it because most of the time he is the one doing the cleaning.
Which brings me back to Sunday mornings. It is just a different story. Trying to get everyone up, ready, and clean the house is a recipe for disaster for this party of one. I resolve to improve each week about losing my cool, but failure is my closest friend. I usually end up mad, spanking someone over non- compliance, and everyone ends up crying.
I made a simple request yesterday of our girls. “Just don’t make a bigger mess, clean up what is here and get ready for Monday. I am going on a trip. I am going to be really, really mad if I come home and there is a mess. I am going to work all day. I do not want to work when I get home.
I had heard that GABC was taking a group to Tuscaloosa. It had been a long while since I had gotten my hands dirty, so it was past time. I wanted to go and serve. I like to work. There is something about giving up myself, and my energy that blesses me in a way nothing else does. I saw the chance to go to Tuscaloosa, so I jumped on it.
I was a mixture of excitement and curiosity as we were driving out of the church parking lot. I told myself that I was going to help, but truth is, on some level, I just wanted to see it. The news reports had peaked my interest, so I had to go see it myself.
I enjoyed the drive until about 30 miles outside town. I began to think about what we were about to walk into. I remembered someone saying that the search and rescue teams were still pulling out bodies (children).
I started to feel sick.
We pulled into a neighborhood to receive instructions. I missed the group meeting (shocking). I was just not paying attention (again, shocking). I was overwhelmed by the damage and didn’t hear what was said. The gentleman pointed to a pile of rubble and said, “Put wood here and metal there.” I put on my gloves and began. I started thinking to myself…wonder whose mess this is? They just left their stuff here for us to clean up. I want to go over there. That is a house with a messed up roof. That is a family who needs us. I came to clean up homes, not debris in a field.
That is when I began to overhear fragments of the story…
“He’s in the hospital…They are coming home today…Jewelry, she wants her jewelry.” I listened to pieces of conversations and the story started to reveal itself.
“They were at home when the tornado hit. Three kids were in the home, but the parents could only get to two. The third child was sucked out of the home and thrown across the street. He is in the hospital and they were all being discharged today to come home.” Home?
Reality hit me. I am standing IN their house. This is not a field of debris; this is the lot of what used to be a home. NOTHING is left that even resembled a dwelling. Not a board, not a wall. I moved some dirt and saw the foundation…
I was standing in the laundry room.
I walked over to the man in charge and helplessly said, “What should I do?” He said, “Go through the piles of rubble and find anything a mom would want to keep.” “…Pictures, art work, toys…Go think like a mom.” If there is one thing I can do, he nailed it! For hours I dug through piles and piles of rubble. We would find precious items, and save them. After several hours we had almost enough stuff to fill up two seats in a van.
A van…their entire world would now fit in two seats of a van.
And then it happened. Have you ever had a moment where something takes place and you felt that the moment you were in was one that you were never supposed to be a part of? Well, that happened to me yesterday. The family showed up. I NEVER want to be a part of a moment like that again. We were standing there when they came home for the first time and saw what was left of their house. I walked away, sat on the ground and just sobbed. I turned my back because watching her pain was too much for me to bear.
Relieved that the torture in front of me was over, we loaded back up. I thought that we had done the “hard part” and now we were just dropping off food and water and then going home. It may be the only way to go, but the road we took was even more heart -breaking. We took a route of absolute devastation and destruction. Obliteration is the only word to begin to describe it. I am not talking about things damaged, that were un-repairable. Everything was utterly and completely gone. I looked at Amanda and said,
“So…..THIS is the Finger of God.”
Surreal is the only way to describe my ride home. I think my defense mechanisms kicked in and what I spent the day doing, now seemed almost like a dream. The reality was just too much to take over and over again. I tried to shake the images burned into my mind. But alas, some memories are just burned too deeply.
Exhausted, I pulled in my driveway around 1:00 am. Walking through the door, I found the house a complete disaster. The evidence that Gary needs me as much as I need him on our tag team was everywhere. Mountains of toys, shoes, and wet swim suits were on the floor. I am not sure that lunch was even cleaned up. I climbed over chairs, shoes, and made a path through the remnants of a great afternoon to reach my sleeping girls.
I just stared at them for a minute. My emotions completely flooded my soul as I looked at their room. What if today was my house? What if my girls were on a cot in a shelter instead of zebra sheets in a hot pink room?
I kissed them, said their prayers, and walked quietly to bed. I had a chance, a moment, looking at the mess, where I could have completely ruined it all. But you see, what was so very important at 9:00 am just didn’t have the same allure 18 hours and so much heartache later. I crawled into bed and reached for Gary’s hand.
He gently squeezed it and said, “I am so glad you are home.” I whispered, half to him and half to myself…“I am just glad to have a home.”
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t allow the moment to pass without acknowledging my Creator…The Blessed Controller of All Things…The One the wind and waves obey.
My prayer was simple, but from an honest heart.
God bless Tuscaloosa…and God bless my beautiful mess.
Yesterday was no exception. The girls wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t get dressed, and there was this MESS everywhere! The fun of a carefree Saturday was showing.
Now, the rule at our house is simple. You don’t walk out the door unless everything is clean. I have always been a “fire path” kind of girl. But…Gary likes the house clean. I like it clean too. I gladly go along with it because most of the time he is the one doing the cleaning.
Which brings me back to Sunday mornings. It is just a different story. Trying to get everyone up, ready, and clean the house is a recipe for disaster for this party of one. I resolve to improve each week about losing my cool, but failure is my closest friend. I usually end up mad, spanking someone over non- compliance, and everyone ends up crying.
I made a simple request yesterday of our girls. “Just don’t make a bigger mess, clean up what is here and get ready for Monday. I am going on a trip. I am going to be really, really mad if I come home and there is a mess. I am going to work all day. I do not want to work when I get home.
I had heard that GABC was taking a group to Tuscaloosa. It had been a long while since I had gotten my hands dirty, so it was past time. I wanted to go and serve. I like to work. There is something about giving up myself, and my energy that blesses me in a way nothing else does. I saw the chance to go to Tuscaloosa, so I jumped on it.
I was a mixture of excitement and curiosity as we were driving out of the church parking lot. I told myself that I was going to help, but truth is, on some level, I just wanted to see it. The news reports had peaked my interest, so I had to go see it myself.
I enjoyed the drive until about 30 miles outside town. I began to think about what we were about to walk into. I remembered someone saying that the search and rescue teams were still pulling out bodies (children).
I started to feel sick.
We pulled into a neighborhood to receive instructions. I missed the group meeting (shocking). I was just not paying attention (again, shocking). I was overwhelmed by the damage and didn’t hear what was said. The gentleman pointed to a pile of rubble and said, “Put wood here and metal there.” I put on my gloves and began. I started thinking to myself…wonder whose mess this is? They just left their stuff here for us to clean up. I want to go over there. That is a house with a messed up roof. That is a family who needs us. I came to clean up homes, not debris in a field.
That is when I began to overhear fragments of the story…
“He’s in the hospital…They are coming home today…Jewelry, she wants her jewelry.” I listened to pieces of conversations and the story started to reveal itself.
“They were at home when the tornado hit. Three kids were in the home, but the parents could only get to two. The third child was sucked out of the home and thrown across the street. He is in the hospital and they were all being discharged today to come home.” Home?
Reality hit me. I am standing IN their house. This is not a field of debris; this is the lot of what used to be a home. NOTHING is left that even resembled a dwelling. Not a board, not a wall. I moved some dirt and saw the foundation…
I was standing in the laundry room.
I walked over to the man in charge and helplessly said, “What should I do?” He said, “Go through the piles of rubble and find anything a mom would want to keep.” “…Pictures, art work, toys…Go think like a mom.” If there is one thing I can do, he nailed it! For hours I dug through piles and piles of rubble. We would find precious items, and save them. After several hours we had almost enough stuff to fill up two seats in a van.
A van…their entire world would now fit in two seats of a van.
And then it happened. Have you ever had a moment where something takes place and you felt that the moment you were in was one that you were never supposed to be a part of? Well, that happened to me yesterday. The family showed up. I NEVER want to be a part of a moment like that again. We were standing there when they came home for the first time and saw what was left of their house. I walked away, sat on the ground and just sobbed. I turned my back because watching her pain was too much for me to bear.
Relieved that the torture in front of me was over, we loaded back up. I thought that we had done the “hard part” and now we were just dropping off food and water and then going home. It may be the only way to go, but the road we took was even more heart -breaking. We took a route of absolute devastation and destruction. Obliteration is the only word to begin to describe it. I am not talking about things damaged, that were un-repairable. Everything was utterly and completely gone. I looked at Amanda and said,
“So…..THIS is the Finger of God.”
Surreal is the only way to describe my ride home. I think my defense mechanisms kicked in and what I spent the day doing, now seemed almost like a dream. The reality was just too much to take over and over again. I tried to shake the images burned into my mind. But alas, some memories are just burned too deeply.
Exhausted, I pulled in my driveway around 1:00 am. Walking through the door, I found the house a complete disaster. The evidence that Gary needs me as much as I need him on our tag team was everywhere. Mountains of toys, shoes, and wet swim suits were on the floor. I am not sure that lunch was even cleaned up. I climbed over chairs, shoes, and made a path through the remnants of a great afternoon to reach my sleeping girls.
I just stared at them for a minute. My emotions completely flooded my soul as I looked at their room. What if today was my house? What if my girls were on a cot in a shelter instead of zebra sheets in a hot pink room?
I kissed them, said their prayers, and walked quietly to bed. I had a chance, a moment, looking at the mess, where I could have completely ruined it all. But you see, what was so very important at 9:00 am just didn’t have the same allure 18 hours and so much heartache later. I crawled into bed and reached for Gary’s hand.
He gently squeezed it and said, “I am so glad you are home.” I whispered, half to him and half to myself…“I am just glad to have a home.”
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t allow the moment to pass without acknowledging my Creator…The Blessed Controller of All Things…The One the wind and waves obey.
My prayer was simple, but from an honest heart.
God bless Tuscaloosa…and God bless my beautiful mess.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)