Thursday, August 10, 2017

My First Response

You guys, I don't get out much. Like literally, unless it's to the zoo with the boys or soccer with Angie, you're not likely to see me in public, except maybe if you run into me on my near-daily grocery trip. About the only place you might catch me in makeup and clothes that match is at church.

So, when I put on heels and a dress to go out with the girls to a surprise party for one of my best friends since high school, Jon graciously kept the kiddos and told me to have a good time. He didn't even bug me during dinner when Paul started fussing at home. But when I checked in on my way between dinner and karaoke he let me know that poor Paulie had been inconsolable for like an hour. He didn't ask me to come home, he knew he'd done all the things I could probably do myself. I ran down a list of ideas over the phone, ending with maybe taking him outside, which eventually worked to calm him down, but in the meantime, I turned to prayer. I had about a 20 minute drive and I BEGGED the Lord to settle Paul's tummy or whatever was making him so fussy. I felt awful for not being there to help, but I also felt like I couldn't abandon the party I'd helped plan. 

Shortly after I arrived at the amphitheater, I got the text that Paul was better and had finally taken his bottle and fallen asleep.

I was SO relieved, and once again able to enjoy my rare night out with adults. 

I was also pretty ashamed of myself.

There had been plenty of times Paul had been super upset. Why wasn't it until I was completely incapable of doing anything to help him that I really sought help from God? All I could do was pray, so I did, but shouldn't I be doing that all the time, not just as a last resort.

That was in June, and I thought I'd learned my lesson, until last night. 

From 3:30-5:30am Paul was up and in a lot of pain. As he cried, arched, writhed, and tried to get comfortable, I did all the things. Walked him, bounced him, nursed him, massaged his belly, massaged his feet, stretched his legs in all the directions, changed his diaper (twice!), gave him Colic Calm, laid him down in all the positions, carried him in all the ways. And by about 5am, I was sobbing with him. And finally I was reaching out to God for help, utterly desperate. 

I'm sure God just smiles lovingly at me as I call on Him from the end of my rope, "Oh, there must be another emergency, I haven't heard from Lauren that passionately or frequently all week."

Guys, somebody hit me over the head, or at least tap me on the shoulder next time. It's not like we have a shortage of emergencies around here. Yesterday, Isaiah and I were attacked by yellow jackets. As I rescued him from the swarm, I remember repeating frantically "Oh gosh! Oh gosh! Oh gosh!" Nice of me not to swear in front of my toddler or use God's name in vain I guess, but why wasn't I pleading, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...please help us," as I iced him down and watched for an anaphylactic reaction?

Isaiah's right eye is still slightly swollen today from one of his dozen or so stings yesterday.
So, as usual I'm writing this down to share the lesson I've learned in hopes it will stay learned a little longer. Other bloggers seem to write from their expertise. Looks like I'll just keep sharing my humbling moments.

Lord, I want to seek you first. Before reaching for the worldly answer, help me to turn to you. I know in You I'll find the peace I need to respond appropriately and the strength to tackle whatever is thrown at me.

"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." -Matthew 6:33

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