Thanks Living

I hear her story…

I often travel through my days veering toward discontentment.  The Map cautions me to steer clear of this obstruction.  A roadblock and barricade.  Yet, I merge into complainer’s lane.  Hugging the curb of criticism.  Honking my hot-tempered horn with road rage in the midst of the gridlock.

And, again this day,  although I have aimed to release a sweet aroma pleasing to the Lord, this attitude of mine is exuding the rancid stench of roadkill.  My disposition has made a sharp turn for the worse.

I am exasperated with my little man and his incessant interruptions.

Mom, look!  I’m a ninja disguised as a civilian. 

(But, you look the same.  Oh.  I get it.)

Mom, did I tell you what Calvin said to Hobbes?

(Actually, yes.  I feel I must be Calvin’s mom by now.)

Mom!!  Oh nooooooo!  Hurry!  Something’s wrong with this mosquito.  It’s flying in circles!

(Why are we concerned with rescuing a mosquito, son?  Shouldn’t we kill him!!)

Mommy, what time will daddy be home tonight?

(Not soon enough.)

Then, I hear her story.

Still on maternity leave but feeling ill, her husband cared for their five-year-old and newborn while she went to the emergency room.  He was traveling in his van five miles from the family’s home when hit head on by another driver.

She arrived at the scene.  The words she heard: we found no survivors.

Her entire family was gone in an instant.  Husband, daughter, newborn son.  Her Caleb, who’d been held in her womb for nine months, was only cradled in her arms for eighteen days.

And she says it is well with my soul.

She has lost so much.  Yet she is yielded and still.  It is well with her soul.  Her story is God’s story.  She has lost life.  And she has gained life.

I find myself with regret.  Another missed opportunity to give thanks in the midst of the rush hour.  The daily grind when life bottle necks into an unpaved, bumpy road.

I stare deeply at my Caleb.  My little man.  I bow my head.  Humbled.  Repentant.  Shifting gears now.  Changing course.

I am grateful.

My multitudes of thanks giving…

A man who invited me to join his ride of life 23 years ago and hasn’t kicked me out of the car yet (although he’s had good reason to do so)

The privilege of washing laundry for a family.  My family.

Finding peanut butter on the wall (a grateful reminder of my aunt repainting my house with kid-proof paint)

Sunshine streaming in on a chilly day

My husband being more excited about my upcoming trip than his recent success

A God-encounter at Best Buy with a stranger

My 14-year-old’s determination to wake early for his Rekindle the Fire devotions

Imagination of young boys

Being interrupted by my Caleb

…to meet Chewbacca fitted with a ghillie suit.  You know.  For deer hunting season.

(But he could be a ninja in disguise.)

4 thoughts on “I hear her story…”

  1. In an instant her entire family gone… Tears are pouring from my eyes. I don’t know what I would do with this. Who does until it happens? People all around me are having family difficulties. My difficulties are with my work. I always consider myself blessed that my difficulties are not with my family, but I never contemplated what not having my family would be like. Now I am. Thanks for this fabulous post. This will be #359 for me.

  2. some things in life have no words … such pain and loss is one of them
    yet God… who gave up His only Son for us… understands
    that is great comfort
    Eucharisteo comes before the miracle (Ann)

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