G2 and Cruz with our puppy Buck

 

“This isn’t the worst day of your life,” G2 said as he watched me clean up the mess he and Cruz made while I was out getting groceries from the car. “The worst day of your life is that day you went crazy. I think this is the second worst day of your life.”

I paused to look at G2’s precious little face while scooping up a thousand popcorn kernels mixed with powdered Gatorade. Cruz, his chubby bare feet dyed blue from the Gatorade, was now standing innocently beside his blue-footed brother watching me crawl on the floor, my hands turning blue from the goop. For some insane reason the boys had dumped out several containers in the pantry. The disaster oozed across the kitchen and was all over our cabinet full of sleeping bags that share our pantry space.

“Really, this isn’t the worst day of your life. That day you went crazy…”

I stopped G2 mid-sentence, “Thank you, you’re right. This isn’t even the second worst day of my life. Actually, this is a pretty good day,” I said with some truly bad days flashing across my memory. G2 spoke truth. That day an ambulance delivered me to the hospital was about the worst day of my life. When it was all said and done, the doctors agreed I had suffered an exhaustion/dehydration breakdown. At the hospital on IVs, I slept for several days, and returned home the most humble person on the planet.

Now waves of medical bills were rolling in, like the tsunami following the earthquake. Yesterday morning in my devotions I read this verse, “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” Psalm 34:8. Encouraged, I started the day smiling, but it proved mostly down hill from there. By late afternoon when fire ants attacked me in my sandals as I walked with the boys down our rambling driveway to get the mail, the verse insistently returned to me, Taste and see that the Lord is good.

As I stomped the stinging ants off my feet, my toes began to swell and burn. My body reacts badly to fire ants. Down at the mailbox another frightening medical bill awaited me. So far our Blue Cross insurance has denied all bills since my melanoma diagnosis, leaving us to cover complete costs. When I shared the new hospital bill with Scott I told him, “this isn’t the worst day of my life, but it has to do with it.” We both laughed because we’ve been laughing for days over G2 saying this, though my heart sank holding that impossible bill, and Scott probably felt discouraged as well. “My breakdown is the gift that keeps on giving,” I said, placing the bill on the counter with the other bills there. “I feel like an absolute loser.”

“You’re the jelly of the month club,” Scott responded with an affectionate smile. Old movie lines are like hugs in our family, they help take the edge off life.

A short while later as I smeared a baking soda paste on my red, swollen foot, I said out loud and with some passion, “Taste and see that the Lord is good!” This was God’s truth and I would embrace it no matter how I felt.

Then I added, “this isn’t the worst day of my life.” And I began to pray for the people in Oklahoma, many who really were experiencing the worst day of their life in the tornadoes.

I can’t tell you how many times G2 has put life in perspective for me. It all started when he was in my womb. Cysts in G2’s brain appeared on a routine ultrasound. The doctor warned us he might be born with Down Syndrome. We didn’t do any further testing while I was pregnant because of the cost (which we couldn’t afford) and what we believed: that God made this baby for us, and come what may, we were keeping him. I think those cysts, which disappeared on their own before his birth, were actually warehouses of wit, which now at five years old, manifest one liners that leave our family reeling. Usually with laughter. G2 is never trying to be funny, he’s just funny. And sometimes he speaks profoundly, like the day he and Cruz turned their feet blue kicking an entire tub of Gatorade powder and popcorn kernels around the kitchen.

This isn’t the worst day of your life, immediately puts problems in their place. United with: Taste and see that the Lord is good, I hear the birds singing, notice how blue the sky is, and feel the sunshine on my shoulders.

But candidly, the past six months have been hard. All I can say is humble pie doesn’t taste good, but the Lord tastes good, and his love is everlasting.

The scripture that gave me comfort when I came home from the hospital and began to walk through life again with greater care and grace was this: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that in is in Christ Jesus our Lord” Romans 8:35-39.

The love of my little pantry-wrecking crew is pretty sweet, too. And G2 and Cruz don’t care that I went crazy. They adore me just the same, and expect me to clean up every mess they make. I don’t get blue ribbons for this mommy business, but sometimes I’m awarded blue hands.