I sit in the late afternoon sun and watch my son load leaves onto his tractor. The same son who told me in no uncertain twenty-two month-old terms last night “Ear, Hurt. Docka.” It was late. The local pediatrician’s office was closing. We would have to drive to the on-call office 40 minutes away. My husband wasn’t home from work yet. I was tired. I was sick. My four-year-old did not want to get back into the car after just arriving home from preschool.
But there was Micah, clutching woobie, pacie and bottle standing at the door like a dog whining to be let out. He was certain. “Docka! Ear. Hurt.” I believed him. We packed up into the car, cruised through Mickey D’s, and stationed the mini DVD player between them and their chicken nuggets.
I prayed. For clear roads and unmissed exits. For parking and a pharmacy that would still be open by the time all was said and done. In the background, over the noise of Winnie the Poo I heard Jackson exclaim – SUNSET. And then explain in the patient practiced tones of the older brother what a sunset is to his baby (by very few pounds less) brother.
Purple and pink streaked the sky. God, above the gridlock. God, in the midst of my jostling for position to hit the right exit. God, with the best view by far of how the evening would end.
We pulled into the parking lot a half hour early. The boys played and the doctor kept us waiting and waiting and waiting. But brothers – oh the sheer joy of being someone’s brother! They loved on each other with laughter and tackles and much more of the paper examination sheet draping the bed than we probably should have pulled from its roll.
And when the doctor finally joined us Micah pointed to his ear and announced HURTS and she was delighted by his impish smile and firm assurance. And she declared him absolutely right. Layers of puss and infection confirmed it must certainly have hurt quite a lot.
Freeze frame.
Right there, moments like that, is when I start experiencing the attack of the killer what-ifs.
What-if I hadn’t believed him? What-if we had waited till the morning? What-if I hadn’t understood what he was trying to tell me? What-if there hadn’t been a late night office open? What if I’d gotten lost or missed an exit?
I am very good at this game. Give me a late night and little sleep and the what-ifs will ratchet up in intensity directly proportional to my absence of peace.
What-if I didn’t work full time? What-if Micah wasn’t in daycare? What-if Jackson had the same thing last week and I just wasn’t paying enough attention because I was too tired to notice? What-if Micah gets a roaring diarrhea rash again from the antibiotics? What if ….
Yea, you’re a mom, you know how it goes.
I have a lifelong best friend who is also South African. We have known each other since we were six. Now she lives in Pretoria and I live in DC. But when we catch up there’s never a bump in the road. We just pick up where we left off last. She has also suffered from attack of the killer what-ifs. But on a scale much worse than mine. Two years ago the neighborhood where she lives with her husband and two daughters was being nightly attacked by gangs of violent thieves. Her what-ifs were matters of life and death. And many around her were leaving the country in droves. It was the first time in my gypsying life that I had ever felt relief at not being in South Africa. But then this is what she told me,
“Lisa-Jo, the safest place for us and our families to be is in God’s will. If God wants you to be in South Africa and you disobey him out of fear, then you are no longer in the safest place possible. If God wants you to be in the States and you disobey him out of fear, then you are no longer in the safest place possible. God’s will is the only place where I know my children will be absolutely safe. And I believe that God has called us to live here in this time and place and neighborhood.”
So they didn’t leave. They stayed. And they prayed.
Yea, prayer doesn’t sound like much of a response does it? But I tell you what, they didn’t pray alone. They got hundreds and hundreds of people from their neighborhood to join together in community prayer meetings. They wrote newsletters, they got in touch with the local police, they raised awareness and they organized a community watch.
And then they prayed some more.
The gangs moved on. The police told them they had never seen such a dramatic drop in crime in such a short period.
They walked boldly because they knew they were in God’s will. And in so doing they changed the landscape of where they live for many, many families more than just themselves.
She is my what-if antidote. Because she points me back to the only doctor who truly matters. In Afrikaans we call him “die Groot Geneesheer” – the Great Physician. He listens as the what-ifs wash over me and then he offers me peace that transcends understanding. And he gives me a pool of sunshine on a fall afternoon for reflecting on all this as I watch my son pick up red, gold, and burnt umber leaves.
I realize that there are much bigger What-Ifs out there than yesterday’s. But I have found that until I can trust him with the small ones, the big ones are out of my league entirely.
I am so glad I found your blog, because I really needed to read this piece of beautiful truth. I’m very much a queen of the what-ifs.
As I was reading this, I was reminded of the verse in Romans chapter 8 that talks about how the Holy Spirit intercedes for us in accordance to God’s will. We really can’t rely on ourself, but praise God for His Spirit that knows what we do not, and urges us on in the way we should go. May our hearts always be softened and sensitive to hear that still small voice…
My spirit surged with such joy as I read the testimony of your friends neighborhood joining together in prayer over their problem. It is not by might, nor by power, but it is by His Spirit, says the Lord of hosts!
Thank YOU for your encouraging words – that is a great Scripture to be reminded of!
Shortly after I moved to India, I was attacked and mugged on the street. It was a frightening experience, and although I wasn’t harmed I couldn’t help but think of all the ‘what-if’ scenerios in my mind.
It’s hard because we do not have any guarantee that we’ll be spared physical harm, but what we do have is something much better. God’s forgiveness and justification through Christ, and His promise to one day bring a justice that is perfect and true. We can know that whatever we suffer now is only temporary, but victory in Christ is forever!
In the meantime, God is so kind to give us the grace we need to endure life’s daily trials and fears. Jared and I often sing the hymn ‘Laden with Guilt.’ We love it and this post reminded me of the first verse, which so often gives me comfort.
Laden with guilt and full of fears
I fly to Thee my Lord
And not a glimpse of hope appears
But in Thy written word
The volumes of my Father’s grace
Does all my grief’s assuage
Here I behold my Savior’s face
In every page
You owe me a lunch date so that I can hear the rest of this story!
I got goosebumps reading this. “The safest place to be is in God’s will.” So true! I will come back to read this post again, I’m sure, because I frequently get attacked by the what-ifs. Hope your baby boy is feeling better soon!
Thanks for the great word! I live in DC and had a “sunset” moment similar to the one you described rushing out of the city a few days ago. Even in our hustle, bustle and worry, God is so good!
They’re really great around here, aren’t they? I mean, it doesn’t hurt that there are all those magnificent monuments to form the perfect backdrop and all!
Wow. Great post and great reminder that we are always safe at the center of his will. And by “safe”, I mean from eternal dangers, the perishing of our souls. Sometimes in the middle of God’s will, we suffer, we lose a child or a spouse, we stumble. But we are safe eternally, our true home always waiting.
On a lighter level-this totally took me back to the night before we flew up to Maine in our first whirlwind hunt for a house. My then 3 month old had what I swore was an ear infection. She was running a fever, crying, etc. I freaked out with the whole “I can’t take her on a plane like this!” and booked a ped’s appt the only place it was available–at the “on call/late hours” office out in Fairfax-for 5:30 p.m. I was certain there was NO WAY we were gonna make it during rush hour (and the rain!) but we did. Right on time. And she didn’t have an ear infection. And her fever had cleared by the time we arrived. Of course it wouldn’t be the last time I had freaked out over what turned out to be nothing. :-)
Sheesh, sorry to write a full-on post in the comments section. Feel free to moderate me. :-)
You’re funny! “Feel free to moderate me” SNORT. If I can’t manage to moderate my children, I have little hope on my blog. Ah the beltway traffic – it takes a miracle or two to make it through!
I’m a card-carrying what-iffer too, but an overcoming one. So glad to know what good company I’m in! You arrived at the same truth that set me free (I wrote my story recently http://upthesunbeam.blogspot.com/2009/10/even-if.html)! Isn’t God good to teach each of us so individually and yet so universally? And what a smart boy you have to be able to tell you what’s wrong and that it’s bad enough to need the doctor!! Sounds like a smart cookie to me!! Hope he’s feeling better!!
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