So, when they got home Friday afternoon (they're both "Shriner's babies", so the surgery was in Salt Lake City, three hours away), they were hurting, and tired, and marginally upset, and we had to get them up my stairs into my newish residence (it's flat, one story inside, but there are five steps to ascend to get to my front door). Thankfully my girlfriend was there to help me care for them Friday evening - and more critically, to retrieve my older son from work at midnight so that I didn't have to leave the twins while they were hurting so much.
This weekend has been the three of us camped out in the living room (I sleep here anyway, because with my myopathy I can't lie flat in a bed any more anyway), and for a change I was the caregiver, rather than the one who was catered to. My girls were laid out on the two couches, and their brothers and my girlfriend and I all serving as their nurses. But it was mostly me, and what I ended up doing was trying to ignore my own pain and fatigue as much as possible so I could take care of my children.
That's part of the price of having children. Their needs come first, before yours.
And that's what serving God means, too. His needs come first, before ours.
So I didn't do much writing these last three days. I did write a piece for The Roar on the college football games on Saturday, in between ice bag trips and helping the girls to and from the bathroom. And I was able to get away for an hour Sunday morning to play piano at church and hear a sermon about the last verse of Psalm 23.
But my own needs had to be put behind the needs of my children, a sentiment every parent undoubtedly recognizes. My girlfriend calls it the cold meal rule - 'Mom always eats last, once the kids and husband are taken care of, and by the time she gets her food, it's invariably cold'. (She then adds, Thank God for microwaves!) Frankly, I'm exhausted from the work, because my myopathy doesn't spare me to care for anyone. I'm frighteningly dizzy right now, and generally exhausted (one daughter figured out how to get to her walker without any help because she couldn't wake me up in the middle of the night). But it's a sacrifice we're willing to make without questions because, "duh! They're OUR kids!
So, why don't we do that with God? We're supposed to! We are created beings of His creation, designed solely to glorify His Name. Whatever it is we think we're supposed to do with our lives is by definition subordinate to what He has planned for us!
Everything.
"Jonah! Go to Ninevah and preach!" I absolutely do NOT want to do that, God! They're evil people, and You're going to save them if you can, and they will continue to be a thorn in our side! "I said, go!" And no matter what Jonah may want, God's needs take precedence.
"Abram! Sacrifice your son to Me." Are you kidding me, Lord? After all I went through to get a child? At the age of 100? And yet, Abram willingly took Isaac to the mountain to sacrifice him, knowing in his heart that God would raise him from the dead if he had to.
"Moses! Lead My People out of Egypt!" Me? I can't do that! I st-uh-st-uh-stuh-stutter! And Aaron my brother would be SO much better than I am."No, Moses. I Want You to do it." And he did - despite his hesitation, Moses knew that God's priorities were more important than his own.
And so it is today. What are God's priorities for your life?
Have you asked Him lately?
gps
Postscript : There was a strange manifestation of God's mercy Saturday night. One daughter woke up at eleven, in agonizing pain. Between pain meds, icebags,and prayer, the pain finally came down, and she fell asleep a few minutes after midnight... seconds before her sister woke up in exactly the same pain. She also received the pain med-icebag-prayer treatment, and an hour later she too was back in bed.
Thank you, Father, for holding the second one's pain off until the first was asleep. Had they both needed me at the same time, with me by myself to comfort them.
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