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I'm washing dishing and looking out the back window. My husband is playing with our three youngest sons. They are in a big plastic climbing cube that he is slowly rolling. Raucous good times.
The last Sunday night I stood here washing dishes was also a good night. Little did I know that my boys would wake in the night with the stomach virus from hell. Litttle did I know what drama was about to unfold.
I took one boy to the hospital around midnight that Sunday and then called home the next morning only to have to hang up because my 16 year old needed to call 911 while my husband tried to administer glucose gel to my lethargic 3 year old.
I waited, helpless and unknowing, in an observation room (in another city) with my sick 5 year old for the intercom announcement of the ambulance arriving with my sick 3 year old.
I'll never forget the feeling of being crumpled to my knees one moment and then raised the next.
I'll never forget that first hug with my 3 year old. He was still strapped in his carseat, strapped to a gurney and attached to an I.V. pole rolling down the E.R. hallway.
It was a rolling, overwhelming, dextrose enhanced, adrenaline rushed thanksgiving sort of hug.
So this Sunday night, I wash dishes and glance outside and feel blessed. I feel blessed and yet know that I will be annoyed with my boys about something-or-other several times before bed. They will misbehave one moment and shine the next.
I'm too weak to be consistently thankful or consistently joyful. No memory is that powerful, but I can thank God for moments of clarity. Moments when I see clearly. Moments on the hospital floor praying and feeling God's presence.
Moments that remind me of the power of the Cross and God's overwhelming sacrificial love.
.
I'm washing dishing and looking out the back window. My husband is playing with our three youngest sons. They are in a big plastic climbing cube that he is slowly rolling. Raucous good times.
The last Sunday night I stood here washing dishes was also a good night. Little did I know that my boys would wake in the night with the stomach virus from hell. Litttle did I know what drama was about to unfold.
I took one boy to the hospital around midnight that Sunday and then called home the next morning only to have to hang up because my 16 year old needed to call 911 while my husband tried to administer glucose gel to my lethargic 3 year old.
I waited, helpless and unknowing, in an observation room (in another city) with my sick 5 year old for the intercom announcement of the ambulance arriving with my sick 3 year old.
I'll never forget the feeling of being crumpled to my knees one moment and then raised the next.
I'll never forget that first hug with my 3 year old. He was still strapped in his carseat, strapped to a gurney and attached to an I.V. pole rolling down the E.R. hallway.
It was a rolling, overwhelming, dextrose enhanced, adrenaline rushed thanksgiving sort of hug.
So this Sunday night, I wash dishes and glance outside and feel blessed. I feel blessed and yet know that I will be annoyed with my boys about something-or-other several times before bed. They will misbehave one moment and shine the next.
I'm too weak to be consistently thankful or consistently joyful. No memory is that powerful, but I can thank God for moments of clarity. Moments when I see clearly. Moments on the hospital floor praying and feeling God's presence.
Moments that remind me of the power of the Cross and God's overwhelming sacrificial love.
.
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3 comments:
I can't even begin to imagine what you were going through with two getting sick at the same time, Susan. The stress must have been overwhelming.
Dana, this was our 3 yo's first hospitalization. He's done so well up to now that it was a shock and disappointment. But this virus was soo vicious- A full 12 hours of vomiting for a FOD'er, even a strong one is about 11 1/2 hours too many.
I love this. So So much. I wish I was stronger, I wish I had a good memory, to see the blessings always.
Sorry about your crummy week. :( Your perspective is amazing.
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