Today I'm kicking off a new Friday series - The Best Worst Mom Ever. Each week I will share one of my multitude of parenting blunders and what I learned from God as I stumbled. Enjoy!
Piercing blue skies showered sun on their blond heads as they played. I watched my two littlest ones chase each other with giggles, peacefully oblivious to the chore I undertook on the other side of the glass. As they played I placed phone call after phone call to break the news.
My husband was diagnosed with cancer.
Somewhere among the calls, I lost sight of them for just a few minutes but I wasn't overly concerned. Our home was built with a port-a-cochere. They were safely separated from the street and the world by an electronically sealed iron gate. Still I knew little kids could get in big trouble in a matter of minutes. I quickly ended my call and went in search of my sweethearts.
|See how cute they were when they weren't red!|
I found them in the garage. One was covered head to toe in red spray paint; the other was colored just on the tips of her tiny fingers. It didn't require a consultation with Sherlock Holmes to determine the perpetrator.
As I scrubbed my little ones clean I just kept bursting out laughing. The whole situation was too ridiculous to elicit any other response. On a day I might have otherwise been crying my eyes out, I found myself joining in my preschoolers' giggles.
Two days later the "victim" returned to preschool still tinged pink. I must admit her odd skin color was the least of my concerns until... the preschool called wanting me to pick her up fearing she had some sort of a rash. It required a healthy dose of humility to admit that she didn't have a rash but had instead been spray painted by her sister.
The journey ahead of me was a scary one. Each morning I had to surrender my fears and choose to trust the One who knew my future. But I knew just as God had given me the gift of laughter on that difficult news day, He would give me exactly what I needed to walk every day of our cancer journey.
When we encounter difficulty, it's typical for someone to tell us something along the lines of "Don't worry. You got this. God won't give you more than you can handle." I love Steven Furtick's take on this:
In reality, God gives you more than you can bear all the time. On purpose.It’s only when you can’t bear the load that the strength of Christ kicks in…and He becomes everything you need and more.Just as I needed humility to admit my parenting blunder to the preschool, I need humility to admit I can't handle this thing called life without God. Whether my day holds a diagnosis or everyday girl drama, I have more than I can bear. That's why He bears my burdens instead.
What situation in your life could the presence of Christ paint a different color if viewed through the lens of relying totally on Him?