Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Lessons Learned

Have you ever had one of those days? You know the kind I'm talking about. It starts out frazzled, gets worse, and then just when you see a hint of light, it gets squashed out. That was my Sunday. Jamie has been working a lot of mandatory overtime at work. He came home Sunday morning around 7:00am, which is smack in the middle of what I like to call the pre-church chaos. Let me paint the picture for you:

 I get food in front of the kids. I run into my room (seriously people, I run) and attempt to throw on clothes that don't look like they belong on a homeless person. I then run back out to make sure they are still sitting at the table eating. They aren't. I'm not surprised. I usher them back to the table and remind them if they would like to finish their breakfast, they need to stay sitting at the table. I run back into my room and attempt to throw my hair in a pony tail. It goes on like this for a little while.

By the time the kids are both dressed, I feel a small sense of accomplishment. Katie has on this cute Nordic looking sweater dress and black leggins. Jamie helps wrangle them into the car and then stumbles into the bedroom to hibernate. Seriously three fifteen hour shifts in a row will do that to you. I feel frazzled as we pulled out of the driveway, but I put on some Kari Job and off we go. The kids are quiet. I am daydreaming about an entire church service with no obligations except to relax and soak in the message. It is glorious for about five minutes. In case you were wondering this is the glimpse of light.

We are less than five minutes away and I hear IT. Katie makes this terrible cough/retching sound right before she is about to throw up. I look over my shoulder. Driving safety does not apply when your two-year-old is about to vomit. I started pleading with her to hold on. I pull over as soon as humanly possible, but it's too late. I hear it and I smell it. I get out of the car and walk around to see her sweet messy little face frowning. I try to use some wet wipes to clean the mess up a bit, but I know even as I'm doing it that it's a lost cause. Did I mention Elijah is crying? Oh yeah. He's figured out this means we are going home and that is unacceptable to him. I give up and take Katie's once adorable sweater dress off. Elijah looses it even more and is quickly approaching a full melt down. I pretty much resign to the fact there is nothing I can do about it except drive home quickly.

On the way home, I can't help but feel sorry for myself. Okay maybe I can help it but I don't want to. Poor poor me. Katie is puke covered in the back seat and I'm more concerned about my own little pity party than her. I just want to go to church. I start directing my conversation at God. God, I wanted to go spend time with you without interruptions. I wanted to sing songs to you. Aren't these all good things? WHY? I know this isn't the biggest crisis. I know I have much to be thankful for. I know I'm being selfish. In the grand scheme of things this is nothing to bat an eye at. I'm aware. I'd just really like to know why this is happening now.

Okay so if this isn't a reflection of just how shallow I can be as a mother and a person then I don't know what is. It was all me's and I's in that moment. I'm just being transparent with you all because it's the only way I know how. I think most of you can probably relate to moments like this as well. The thing is, in my heart and in my spirit, I know God is good. Did He force Katie to throw up in that moment? HA, I don't think so. I'm not saying He couldn't, I'm simply saying I don't think in this instance that's what happened. I think He knew what was going to happen though, and I KNOW He had a plan. Even when I can't see the end game, I know God has a plan. I know this because I believe His word is true. I know this because my life experience has taught me that this is true. I know this because I know the God I serve. He is love. Often, so so often, we don't have the privilege of seeing that end result. It's a brushstroke in a massive work of art. Sunday though, I got my answer.

We were blocks away from the house and Elijah was in complete hysterics at that point. Suddenly he stopped crying, turned, and asked, "Katie you don't feel good do you?" Katie responded, "No Lijah, I not feel good." Elijah said, "I'm sorry Katie. We'll get you home real soon and then you'll feel better." This seems ordinary, but it isn't. My son has Autism. He often doesn't understand how to sympathize, especially with his sister. He full-on pulled himself out of a complete emotional break down and sympathized with his little sister. That entire frustrating car ride had nothing to do with me. How could I continue to be selfish? There were lessons to be learned in all of it. Elijah learned to sympathize. I learned that it isn't always about me. These are both lessons that we will go on learning in different ways. I'm just thankful that Sunday I got my answer. Sunday I got to watch my son grow. Sunday God watched us both grow.