These Precious Gifts

This girl…

I love her fiercely. You know that, right?

But she has a way of pushing every single one of my buttons, every single day. We’ve affectionately dubbed her “Hurricane Sophia" for the way she storms through the house leaving a wide swath of destruction in her path.

Why is it that it takes a mere 2 seconds for them to upend a room but at least 30 minutes to put it back in order?

But I digress…

I don’t know what the weather has been like in your neck of the woods, but around here its been nothin’ but hot.

Like, “the-kiddie-pool-is-now-a-hot-tub” HOT.

“My-makeup-is-melting-off-my-face” HOT.

You get the picture – it hasn’t been a great time for exploring the great outdoors. We braved the splash park a couple of days but for the most part, we’ve been holed up within these four walls praying our air conditioner doesn’t give out on us.

And if winter has taught me anything it’s that two energetic children + too many hours in the house = one slightly crazy Mommy.

By last Saturday, I was pretty much ready for the nuthouse. Shoot, a strait jacket and a padded room doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s clean and quiet, right?

I would love to be able to sugarcoat this and tell you that I was keeping a positive attitude, that I didn’t let my emotions control my actions, that I was rolling with the punches and keeping things in perspective…but you know I keep it real, right?

The truth is…I was struggling – no, I wasn’t even STRUGGLING – I was GIVING IN to my emotions, and man were they taking us all for a ride.

Dave had some projects to take care of outside that were long overdue, and I knew {in my head} that it’s where he needed to be. It’s not like he was having a party or off fishing with his buddies, he was hauling wood and trimming hedges and sweating like the dickens while doing it.

And I was inside having a pity party.

“I just want a break. A little break. I mean, I work, what, from 7 am to 8 pm all day, every day, that’s like…a 13 hour day and I don’t even get a lunch break! And now I don’t even get a weekend! I just need some space, I mean seriously, look at this place. You would never know that I spent all week cleaning, what is that sticky stuff on the floor over there? Didn’t I just mop? And where did all these toys come from? I need to clean out the toys. That’s it! I’m packing them all up and taking them to Goodwill during naptime.”

And so on, and so forth. Poor, poor, pitiful me.

The thing is…you can’t think that way and not have it affect your attitude. I needed to get my mind right and I knew that, in my head, but my heart was soooo not there.

Finally, naptime. A blessed relief. I sat down and flipped through my Facebook feed and saw a status update that stopped me in my tracks.

It was from this family:

A family who I have never met but only heard of through mutual friends. Four kids, mama is due with their fifth any day now, and not long ago, they found an inoperable cancerous tumor near their 18 month old daughter’s spine. They’ve been undergoing tests and their update on Saturday was simply this:

“We just found out that Taylors tumor is an aggressive stage three tumor. We are sad.”

Inoperable. Stage Three. Aggressive. Cancer. I cannot even fathom having a doctor utter those words in connection with my daughter’s name.

Have you ever had a moment where you got a glimpse of yourself – I mean, your true self, the one you try to pretend doesn’t exist?

That’s what I saw at that moment. And it was not pretty.

Suddenly, the trail of toys, the crumbs from lunch, the dishes on the counter, that sticky spot of who knows what on the floor…they told a different story to me. Not of a stressful week with too many hours in the house.

No, they spoke of life. Of messy, imperfect, glorious life.

Because, I’ve never met this family, but I’m pretty sure they’d give anything right now to have a perfectly healthy baby girl tearing a hurricane path through their home instead of lying in the hospital having biopsies and bone scans.

And so it was, on Saturday that my husband found me sitting on my bed sobbing tears for a family I do not know, with a daughter not unlike my own, facing what is likely the greatest trial of their lives. God had struck a nail hard and fast into the center of my selfishness and in one instant brought “my stressful week” into clear perspective.

This girl:

This energetic, often clingy, tantrum throwing, strong willed, tests-all-the-boundaries, pushes-all-my-buttons girl.

She is a gift.

They are gifts.

I must not take them for granted.

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Would you pray with me for this sweet family as they walk through this trial together?