Snake Bait!

“If we give way to self-pity and indulge in the luxury of misery, we remove God’s riches from our lives and hinder others from entering into His provision. No sin is worse than the sin of self-pity, because it removes God from the throne of our lives, replacing Him with our own self-interests. It causes us to open our mouths only to complain, and we simply become spiritual sponges— always absorbing, never giving, and never being satisfied. And there is nothing lovely or generous about our lives.” -Oswald Chambers The month of May has been full of obstacles, heartache and struggle. Every time I take a stab at recovery, it seems unachievable. On May 16th, I read this amazing devotion from Chambers and decided that I would no longer moan about my frustrations, and I would refuse to feel self-pity. On my way to work, I decided that I would embrace my life and settle in. Then I got the call from Tyler’s school that he was bit by something and they had called an ambulance. As I raced out the door and drove 90 miles per hour to get to his school, I prayed and screamed. I was so frightened but completely focused. I’ll never forget seeing that ambulance with my 4 year old in the back. Talk about a flashback. This is the second child I have sat beside in an ambulance. Deep down though-- I wasn’t scared. The worst case scenario was a bad finger not death-- that I could handle. As we burst into the ER and the doctors and nurses hustled and bustled around, I began to lose it. Here I stood next door to the room where Meredith lost consciousness and the question was asked, “Is there any family history of disease?” I began to weep as the question can be answered so easily by other people, but for me the answer is a loaded one. Once I gathered my emotions and became focused again I spent the rest of the day watching Ty get anti-venom and watching his hand swell and turn black and blue. I didn’t feel fear though, just disbelief. That self-pity creeped in quickly. Good gracious, whose kid gets bit by a copperhead at preschool? Can’t I catch a break? Can’t I just have a normal day without a crisis of some kind? After an overnight, we anticipated a good report as Tyler seemed like he was fine, and most kids recover without more intense treatment. Tyler’s doctor was on the fence, but let us go anyway. I spent the night watching Tyler’s hand closely, keeping it propped up, and trying not to freak out. The doctor said it would get bigger and uglier so not to be afraid. So, Tyler and I gallivanted around, ran errands and visited his school to ease his little friend’s hearts the next day. As we did “show and tell” with his finger, I noticed it getting bigger and uglier. I tried to not overact, but when all the adults in the room urged me to go back to the hospital I knew I had to go. The thought of returning there was agonizing, but it was the right thing to do. When Tyler asked me if his finger was going to “displode,” I knew it was time for us to go back to the hospital. Back in the ER, Tyler and I spent 4 hours waiting, talking, waiting, and playing. His finger continued to get bigger, fatter and more gruesome. The fatigue and frustration set in. I tried really hard to keep my cool. But, when the orthopedic surgeon resident came in for the third time and a decision had yet been made, I prepared my “I know how the hospital system works” speech. In the most Christ-like and loving tone, I explained that I lived in a hospital for 3 months and knew that the only way to get something accomplished was to freak out, and I would rather not do that, so I needed them to make a decision promptly and let me know. The response—2 surgeons, 2 ER doctors and about 6 other medical attendants—mission accomplished. Within an hour, surgery was scheduled and executed. A series of other events occurred that scared me out of my mind, but as I look back, I just laugh. I faced a lot of fears that day. I also had a lot of questions rolling around in my head. I know that God uses all things for His glory, but this crisis was by far a stretch for me to comprehend. I kept coming back to the image that God gave me during one of my quiet times. It was of me being an arrow and God being the Archer. The archer stretches the bow and pulls on his arrow until it is so tight and cannot be stretched one more inch. The archer decides when it is precisely positioned to hit the target and only he knows the perfect moment to let go and shoot the arrow. I know I feel like that arrow sometimes. Being held so tightly is tough and excruciating but we are held there because God is pointing His arrow straight to His purpose. When I think about how hard things are, I remember this image. It is comforting to know that He has a plan for me, even when life bites!