Sweatin' the Small Stuff

After two days of antibiotics, Amelia still awoke today with 103.4 fever. She’s getting worse, not better. So, by 8:00, I had already started the process to get her more medicine for the pain. Honestly, with the problems I’ve had this week getting medicine, you’d think my child had some rare disease only seen in wild monkeys in the Amazon instead of a run-of-the-mill ear infection!

My doctor called in medicine, but two phone calls to Wal-mart later, I learn that this particular medicine isn’t made anymore (???), so they had to call him back. No. They don’t call back. They informed me everything is via fax. I’ve worked in an office before, so I know how faxes get left waiting until some unsuspecting person needs to send a fax and finds a lot of incoming faxes in her way. In a way, faxes are like the “To Do” list on my kitchen counter—everybody makes sure to walk as far around that part of the counter as possible because if you catch a glimpse of what’s written down, you might feel guilty enough to do something on it.

So much for living in the fast communication age! I call my doctor back—nurse is out to lunch and won’t be back for another half hour. No, nobody else can help. 45 minutes later, I call back Wal-mart again, but this time, it’s ready! Smoke signals…pony express…morse code—any of these could have been faster! I immediately abandon my three kids at my parents’ house and drive the 7 minutes to Wal-mart where I wait (again) for them to run the new insurance cards. At 1:58, I exit the store.

Do you know what that means? I spent SIX hours just trying to get ear drops! How’s that for lack of progress today! I get home at 2:30, feed everybody, and put them all down for naps. I’m exhausted. And then it hits me. Why didn’t I ask God for help? When Amelia woke up, my first instinct was to call Doug and ask him to pray for her. God as Great Physician, no problem. But then I spent the next six hours being frustrated as I played phone tag, and not once did I ask God to help speed it along.

How is it that I can give God the BIG problems like infertility and Doug’s career being taken away more easily than I give Him the day-to-day minutia of my life? It makes no sense! I know in my heart that God cares about every aspect of my life. Now, I’ve just got to work harder getting that head knowledge to my heart.

I imagine God’s paternal relationship with me is much like my relationship with my 2-year-old; I can just picture God dropping his forehead into His hands as He says, “What did daddy tell you to do when you needed help? Now why didn’t you listen?” And as I drop my head in shame, He draws me close into His lap, kisses my tears, and tells me He loves me and that I’ll do better next time. Then, with a gentle pat on my back, He puts me down and tells me to “Go on” to face my next challenge.