“God is good!” I sighed to myself as I settled into an SUV that smelled like a cross between stale fries and coffee creamer.
I flipped on some country radio, content just to sing about another person’s nasty pickup truck to avoid thinking about mine. The sun was shining… I had coffee plans with some girlfriends… what could go wrong? Absolutely nothing!
Except for that phone call from the school office twenty minutes later. “You need to pick up your kids immediately,” the nurse informed me. “They’ve got lice.“
“Got Milk?” was such a great ad campaign. “Got Lice?” Not so much.
Anxiety shot through me like a senior with a prom night zit. What would I do? My husband was at work. My mom was sick. My in-laws were out of town. It was just me. Poor old ME!
Oh, and God. He’d help me get through it, right? I wanted to put my faith on that. I really did. After all, as I mentioned in a prior post, Luke 12:7 promises, “But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.”
I love the concept of this hair numbering business, but when Christ was talking about the importance of our hair strands I’m pretty certain he wasn’t referring to pulling nits out of them.
My spirits dropped. I wanted to be Warrior Christian Mama who would fiercely navigate Rite Aid, all the while reigning in feral children and spinning boxes of R.I.D. like anti-lice nunchuks.
I wanted to keep an attitude of gratitude. “Dear Jesus. Thank you for giving me lice instead of cancer.”
But that day I got a phone call from the dermatologist saying that the biopsy on my chest came back positive for carcinoma cancer. I’d have to have it removed.
“Well, it’s not like I’m going to die from that,” I told myself. What was that song Julie Andrews sang, “When the dog bites… when the bee stings?”
I blame that song for my fate when, four days later, I got bitten by a protective poodle. In addition to this, my husband made an uncharacteristic visit to Urgent Care, my daughter got the croup, and I got let go of from my three year magazine column.
Do you think God is telling me something? Perhaps something like, “I gave humans precious life. For many, it is lucky… but not for you! Forget the lottery ticket; just give more to the offering plate on Sunday.”
Maybe God is telling me to slow down.
Maybe He is testing my patience.
Maybe there is no God at all and this is just the sad reality of life that I am going to face with kids.
*Note: I don’t really believe this last statement, but when I’m exhausted and tired, I feel defeated. This is where I sometimes go. It’s at these times I write and pray and read my Bible and call any Christian I know who will bolster my faith. I am not an island. Either are you. And though I don’t know you, can you pray for me anyway? Yeah, I’m that shameless when it comes to needing God when I’m down.
To close this post, I will say that we are currently lice free, cancer free, heart attack free and I have not been bitten by anymore dogs. I might shake and spit from some Holy Spirit intervention (that would be interesting!) but it won’t be from rabies.
Maybe you’re like me. You read the Bible. You go to church. You know what you’re supposed to do, but you don’t always “feel” it. Well, either do I. But I’m still going to walk the walk. I hope you’ll join me. If you give me nits through the internet, though, I am not going to be happy. Jesus might love every strand on your head, but I will reach through the screen and pull yours out.
Until the next post, I will leave you with Philippians 4:6-7:“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
* Originally published in Joe Beam's marriage restoration blog. (almost caught up...) Photo from All Posters.