When a Husband Forgets Mother's Day

This is not a sob story. This is one of those goose-bump creating convergences of events that could only be orchestrated by the Master planner. Wait for it.

Lately, I have been trying to live on yesterday's manna. I have become overwhelmingly preoccupied with making house construction decisions, building small cities of packed boxes, and grading exams and papers for the last two weeks of my teaching semester.

The result is I've caught myself sinking into a depression caused by over-busyness and lack of sleep. I should be used to the feeling by now, but six times a year during midterms and finals, my eyes drop to the waves beneath my feet, and I feel myself sinking.

Each time, I wonder why I can't hear God's voice. Without fail, the voice outside my head whispers, "God never speaks to you. He's only given the occasional answer over the years. It's normal to not hear from Him for weeks at a time."

But even though I don't feel I'm maturing, I must be moving forward because this past week, I've found myself replying to that annoying voice and reminding myself of God's faithfulness in the past. I've flipped through the Bible study I just completed and reviewed those clusters of asterisks; dark, excited underlines; and all-caps marginal notes where God did speak a word to me.

In the midst of all this God drama, Doug forgot Mother's Day. To his credit, he admitted as much Saturday afternoon, confessing he thought it was the next Sunday. Sadly, I understand the brain overload that caused this snafu.

But today I woke with a scratchy throat caused by yesterday's first cutting of the field behind my house. (If you've been around awhile, you might remember I live on a hay farm...and am allergic to grass.) Combine my feeling like a strangled chicken with a feeling that my husband and God were too occupied to remember me, and today was shaping up to be pretty bad.

So....I piled the children in the van and (what else) went to Wal-mart in a different town, one where I knew no one so I didn't feel required to fix my hair or put on make-up.

At the end of my twenty-minute drive, I was stopped by a red light. To the left, a small plywood sign by a deserted building caught my attention. Crudely painted white, the black letters read "Hab. 2:1."

Now, I've seen plenty of Bible verses on signs. John 3:16. Romans 3:23. Ephesians 2:8. But Habakkuk? My all-time favorite book? Seriously, what are the chances?

And the prophet Habakkuk said: "I will stand on my guard post And station myself on the rampart; And I will keep watch to see what He will speak to me, And how I may reply when I am reproved."

A reminder to keep waiting, to keep watching...and God will speak a word to me yet again.

I would have been amazed with just that message. But then God had to show off.

After an inglorious trip to Wal-mart, I grumpily steered my defiant buggy and yelling children towards the exit door. And what did I find?

The greeter had just wheeled out the "leftover" Mother's Day flowers that didn't sell. Arm extended, he handed me a bouquet.

What did I do? I dialed my husband and jokingly said, "God knows you forgot Mother's Day..."