About a week ago I bought Josie, our 4 year old, a new pair of flip flops for the summer. And, BECAUSE SPIRITUAL WARFARE IS REAL, about an hour after we got home- she lost one.
::eye roll::
It's situations like this that help me understand the lionesses' urge to sometimes eat their young because sweet merciful heavens I'd *just* bought them for her.
When she came to tell me (read: crying like she'd just been mauled by a bear) that she couldn't find one of her new shoes, I initially blew her off. My kids "lose" about 17 things a day and I can usually locate them with fairly decent accuracy within a few minutes. I did a quick visual sweep of our living room, came up fruitless and encouraged her to go look in her bedroom. I shrugged it off as one of the many aforementioned "lost" items I find each day and went about my business. (I'm pretty sure I was cleaning toilets. It was a riveting day.)
But then, when it came time to clean up before bed, my usual under-the-furniture-behind-the-doors-beside-toy-chest haunts were empty and void of that bright pink shoe. "Whatevs", I told myself- "It'll turn up in the morning."
Except that it didn't. ::groan::
I dove deeper into the recesses of our house. I lifted mattresses, I emptied dirty clothes hampers, I even checked the pot drawer in my kitchen. NOTHING.
It was at this point that I started to feel a little...frustrated with the whole situation. I mean, c'mon! She had them for like one.hot.minute before one was magically vaporized. It was maddening, y'all.
Surprisingly, (or not really) I don't handle losing things well. We have a rubber set of squeaky building blocks that are my own personal Kryptonite. I haaaaaate them because if we've pulled them out during the day, I can't go to bed until I find ALL TEN OF THEM and put them away for the night. It's a character flaw, I know, but to thine own self be true- AND THIS WHO I AM.
So, on like Day 4 of the ShoeQuest, my eye started twitching. Like, FOR REAL. It became more than a $9 pair of shoes and had turned into a mountain of disrespect for toys and a lack of appreciation for things and a whole downward spiral of despair and angst against life. (I may have a flair for the dramatics. MAYBE.) And clearly, I needed Jesus to hold my hand through this.
So, in the middle of another fruitless search, I snuck away to my closet, closed the door and gave God the current rundown of the situation, ESPECIALLY about my current semi-psychotic state regarding the whole big thing. (God knows I'm really good at making mountains out of molehills and He still loves me anyway. Ridiculous, I know.)
So I pour out all my shoe insanity to Him, and ask Him to help me curb the crazy a wee bit. I give Him all the backstory of all the facets to the whole thing and then ask him to slow my roll. I humbled myself. I recognized that I had weaknesses that were coming to the surface because of one single lost shoe. (It's pathetic that I had to climb off the ledge because I'd spent a week looking for a shoe, these are first world problems, I get that.) I owned my flaws and asked Him to prefect them for me. I left my closet feeling better, and knew that I'd have that shoe located before bedtime that night.
Except that I didn't.
I didn't find the shoe that day, or the next, OR THE NEXT. My psychosis continued to try to read it's ugly head, but instead of giving in to it, I gave it up. I forced myself to exhale. To unclench my jaw. To put it in a bubble and blow it away. (Again, I may be just a little dramatic.)
A family connected with our church tragically lost their home in a fire this week. There are siblings in the home that are the same ages as my oldest and middle child. We are collecting clothes and other donations for them so yesterday, The Great Purge happened. I went through all our toys and books and puzzles and clothes and PlayDoh molds. Things that were nice enough to donate were donated. (Side note: DON'T GIVE YOUR TRASH TO THE NEEDY. It's not nice. But that's another post for another day.) Things that were broken were recycled. Things that were kept were organized and put away. Also, how on Earth did we accumulate so many stuffed animals??
I was going through a bag of off season clothes that were stored on the floor of the big kid's closet in their room when I saw it. THE PINK SHOE WAS FINALLY FOUND. And at first, I couldn't believe it. And neither could Josie. She shrieked, ran to grab it's mate and literally hugged them.
I made a point to stop then and thank God for the help He gave us. I'd been praying and searching and working so hard- and I never thought in a million years I'd be praying for a tiny pink flip flop, but BECAUSE MOMMING WITHOUT JESUS IS INSANITY, I did.
::eye roll::
It's situations like this that help me understand the lionesses' urge to sometimes eat their young because sweet merciful heavens I'd *just* bought them for her.
When she came to tell me (read: crying like she'd just been mauled by a bear) that she couldn't find one of her new shoes, I initially blew her off. My kids "lose" about 17 things a day and I can usually locate them with fairly decent accuracy within a few minutes. I did a quick visual sweep of our living room, came up fruitless and encouraged her to go look in her bedroom. I shrugged it off as one of the many aforementioned "lost" items I find each day and went about my business. (I'm pretty sure I was cleaning toilets. It was a riveting day.)
But then, when it came time to clean up before bed, my usual under-the-furniture-behind-the-doors-beside-toy-chest haunts were empty and void of that bright pink shoe. "Whatevs", I told myself- "It'll turn up in the morning."
Except that it didn't. ::groan::
I dove deeper into the recesses of our house. I lifted mattresses, I emptied dirty clothes hampers, I even checked the pot drawer in my kitchen. NOTHING.
It was at this point that I started to feel a little...frustrated with the whole situation. I mean, c'mon! She had them for like one.hot.minute before one was magically vaporized. It was maddening, y'all.
Surprisingly, (or not really) I don't handle losing things well. We have a rubber set of squeaky building blocks that are my own personal Kryptonite. I haaaaaate them because if we've pulled them out during the day, I can't go to bed until I find ALL TEN OF THEM and put them away for the night. It's a character flaw, I know, but to thine own self be true- AND THIS WHO I AM.
So, on like Day 4 of the ShoeQuest, my eye started twitching. Like, FOR REAL. It became more than a $9 pair of shoes and had turned into a mountain of disrespect for toys and a lack of appreciation for things and a whole downward spiral of despair and angst against life. (I may have a flair for the dramatics. MAYBE.) And clearly, I needed Jesus to hold my hand through this.
So, in the middle of another fruitless search, I snuck away to my closet, closed the door and gave God the current rundown of the situation, ESPECIALLY about my current semi-psychotic state regarding the whole big thing. (God knows I'm really good at making mountains out of molehills and He still loves me anyway. Ridiculous, I know.)
So I pour out all my shoe insanity to Him, and ask Him to help me curb the crazy a wee bit. I give Him all the backstory of all the facets to the whole thing and then ask him to slow my roll. I humbled myself. I recognized that I had weaknesses that were coming to the surface because of one single lost shoe. (It's pathetic that I had to climb off the ledge because I'd spent a week looking for a shoe, these are first world problems, I get that.) I owned my flaws and asked Him to prefect them for me. I left my closet feeling better, and knew that I'd have that shoe located before bedtime that night.
Except that I didn't.
I didn't find the shoe that day, or the next, OR THE NEXT. My psychosis continued to try to read it's ugly head, but instead of giving in to it, I gave it up. I forced myself to exhale. To unclench my jaw. To put it in a bubble and blow it away. (Again, I may be just a little dramatic.)
A family connected with our church tragically lost their home in a fire this week. There are siblings in the home that are the same ages as my oldest and middle child. We are collecting clothes and other donations for them so yesterday, The Great Purge happened. I went through all our toys and books and puzzles and clothes and PlayDoh molds. Things that were nice enough to donate were donated. (Side note: DON'T GIVE YOUR TRASH TO THE NEEDY. It's not nice. But that's another post for another day.) Things that were broken were recycled. Things that were kept were organized and put away. Also, how on Earth did we accumulate so many stuffed animals??
I was going through a bag of off season clothes that were stored on the floor of the big kid's closet in their room when I saw it. THE PINK SHOE WAS FINALLY FOUND. And at first, I couldn't believe it. And neither could Josie. She shrieked, ran to grab it's mate and literally hugged them.
I made a point to stop then and thank God for the help He gave us. I'd been praying and searching and working so hard- and I never thought in a million years I'd be praying for a tiny pink flip flop, but BECAUSE MOMMING WITHOUT JESUS IS INSANITY, I did.
I'm sure there will be more ridiculous things I'll ask God to help me with, but for now, this takes the cake. What's the craziest thing you've ever asked God to help you with?
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