Friday, May 30, 2014
Oops...she did it again
God has a fantastic sense of humor.
I know this to be true like I know the sky is blue or chocolate makes everything better.
I may have mentioned before that I have a serious mouth phobia. Like uber-serious.
So let me set the stage:
The husband is out of town on guys weekend. He's my guy in emergencies of the mouth variety.
I go to church with the little people.
I run a meeting with my friend Miss K to get ready for Kids Kamp.
I'm baffled when Miss P shows up carrying Kadence who has a lot of bloody paper towels shoved in her mouth.
You have got to be kidding me.
I look at Miss P and she says gently, "It's her tooth."
Blood. Mouth. Teeth.
The trifecta of sending me into a tailspin.
Miss P looks at me, clearly concerned. "Are you okay?"
So I tell her, "Mmmmm...I have this mouth phobia thing...this is the husband's area. He's my guy when stuff like this happens."
My cavalry is out of town.
My heebie jeebies smattered with a large dose of panic and served with a small side of fear are sprinting out of control.
I feel it all rise up as I feel everything in me shut down.
And then I really look at Miss P, and I hate to admit these words actually came out of my mouth, but this is how wacky my brain becomes and how paralyzed my processing ability degenerates to with trauma in the mouth, and I whisper "What do I do? I don't know what to do."
Meanwhile, I have Kadence and her bloody face pressed to my shoulder.
She's calming down. And I'm freaking out on the inside a little.
"Do you want me to take a look for you?" Miss P asks me gently, compassionately. "What can I do to help you?"
God has a sense of humor. But He also has an immeasurable capacity for grace. And for providing what I need when I need it. And He had it all ready for me. Before it ever happened.
My friend Miss K has dealt with knocked out teeth with both of her kids. Miss P is a biology teacher with a great capacity for icky things (i.e. bloody mouths). All I had to do was hold my baby and tell her she was gonna be fine. And Miss P looked at her mouth. And my tummy cringed a little because it didn't look so good. And Miss K swept her right away after the meeting, which she ended up running by herself because I was otherwise occupied, and she got that little girl talking and sucking on ice. Both were things I was not able to do because my little girl was feeding off of my fear as it rolled in waves through my pores.
Today was not my favorite day.
But it was a day that I was reminded that God loves me.
And How God Loves Me is more than enough because it settled deep into the wacky places, the paralyzed places, the performance places, the places where I didn't feel like I was enough.
It was more than just knowing in my head all the truths I've read and studied and lived.
It was one of those rare moments where I got it. Deep. Real. In the very struggle I was floundering lost and panicked through.
I knew. I believed. I trusted.
He wasn't going to leave me in a space where I couldn't handle what happened to my girl. He wasn't going to abandon me to flounder and freak out and make irrational decisions in the middle of my freak out. He wasn't going to disappear at the "What do I do?" He hunkered down in the middle of the chaos, grabbed me tight and close, and buffeted the hardest of the waves. He was my stormbreak. And that's so much more than enough.
He put me in a safe place. He put my girl in a safe place. He made it so Kadence had people who have crazy awesome skills and crazy awesome love. And I soaked it up. And she soaked it up. Because really what else is there to do when you can't do anything and God provides everything but soak it up?
In another time not so long ago, I wouldn't have been able to soak it up. I would've thought I had to do it alone and lonely. That my strength was somehow tied to my ability to handle crises by myself. To make it work by myself. Because that's sometimes what we believe. That we don't need others. That we don't need help. Because somewhere we started believing the lie that needing equaled weakness.
I say make me weak. Make me needy. Because then Jesus is biggest.
And God gets to do the stuff that only God can do.
I want to need Him. I'm done with believing I have to do the hard stuff, the big stuff, the small stuff, the awesome stuff, the gross stuff, the scary stuff alone and by doing it alone I'm somehow more.
More what, exactly?
More alone? Yep.
More tired? Yep.
More lonely? Yep.
More sad? Yep.
More angry? Yep.
More frustrated? Yep.
More needy? Ironically, Yep.
I want more of Jesus. Deep down. Soul deep. And to hang out down deep means we will need others.
It's impossible to be the kind of mama my heart really wants to be all by myself. I need my people and while I'd like to think I can do it alone, I know that we are so much stronger and deeper and able as the body of Christ.
So much stronger because we know we are weak.
So much stronger because we live in His strength.
So much stronger because we know we can't do life without Him.
So much stronger because we need Him.
And when we surrender what we think we're supposed to do, how we think we're supposed to be then God can grace-cover us and sweep us away in an ocean of blessing and let us live out His crazy awesome love.
I'm relieved to share it all worked out. Kadence went to the dentist early Monday morning. With my mama. And she was super excited. Both of them. My mama and Kadence. Kinda cute if it wasn't for the whole tooth trauma thing.
And when Kadence marched in to the dentist office proudly, put her hands on her hips, and exclaimed loudly, "Okay! Where's the tooth fairy?" I was convinced that not only was she not traumatized, she was living out this particular adventure to the fullest.
Although, she does look a bit like a pirate now.
Grace Always Rises,