Amanda over at A Homegrown Life has hit the nail on the head for me today. Darn it.
Today I heard that a young lady who was fighting for her life due to some complications that came her way after she was born with leukemia has passed on to the afterlife. She was a local child... she was being treated at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. She needed a double lung transplant because her treatment had totally ruined her lungs. Sucks.
A few days ago I learned that there had been a huge explosion inside of the plant in which my Dad worked for the past 30ish years. He just retired from there this past March. It's a filthy place. They make powdered steel inside of there. It's miserably hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. It's back breaking labor. I have often compared it to the likes of working in a coal mine. And my daddy did it for his entire adult life essentially... to make a living and to take care of me and my mom. It's humbling and admirable. He's a good man.
Two men were badly injured in the explosion. One of the men passed away today. My dad didn't know him as he had been hired after my dad stopped working. But the other one was a buddy of my dad's.
I spend my days wondering how much longer... How much longer am I going to have to give these meds? And then regive them because they made my son puke? Or how much longer until I know whether or not he's sterile... or that he's not able to grow anymore? Or how much longer until he starts eating like a normal nearly-seven-year-old boy? Or how much longer until he can go out and start living his life among people again?
I put on a brave face. I really do. But I also throw temper tantrums. And when the baby makes his third mess with juice within an hour (that I couldn't prevent because I was tending to something else) I might yell a little bit. Or I might throw towels across the room. Holler at the kids for no good reason because I'm actually stressed out about something that I was thinking about, but how are they supposed to know that?
I tell myself that it's okay. That I have it rough right now and I'm allowed to pout, whine, moan, groan, cry, and get all pissy at times. And maybe I am.
But then I'm reminded of how much worse it could be. And I feel ashamed. Really ashamed. Because God has asked me to accept this as my load to bear. I am glad He didn't ask more from me.
So these are the two scriptures I'm looking at, meditating on, and memorizing.
"In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." I Thessalonians 5:18
“I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances . . . “ Philippians 4:11
I had a few more things to say but the toddler is up and he's calling for me. And with a thankful heart I shall go tend to him and give his sweet little face a few kisses.