Toy guns

It is 4 am. This is my third morning of watching the sunrise while I pray for my littlest man and work on keeping his fever down. The doctor said it is merely an ear infection and the antibiotics and ear drops should certainly take care of it but for now, he is fevered again and so I am awake again. Tonight, I was awakened not just by fever, sweats and chills but also by his upset stomach and I feel especially sorry for G. So here I am, laying in a bunk bed, covering my youngest with several layers in an attempt to help him break through this thing. I have a yoohoo, a Gatorade, and a choclate pudding at bedside, in case he wakes up and will eat or drink and I am cradling my coffee cup, praying, and I am struck by how thankful I am for this moment. Not the fever, or the belly ache, or the ear infection, but the opportunity to be here in this moment with one of my greatest blessings.

I think that too often we all have tendency to let ourselves feel overwhelmed and burdened when really we should be grateful. I was struck by that just a bit ago as I was clearing a spot for me in my kid's bunk. I had to move their bags from a friend's birthday party, two children's bibles, several stuffed animals, and their guns (toy guns that is). How funny that those silly guns that I clean up too often, and that completely annoy me at times, brought such joy in that moment. I couldn't help but thank God for guns - nerf guns, marshmallow guns, army guns, noise- making light-up guns, toy guns. I am overwhelmed with the responsibility and privilege of my life often but I am so grateful for it as well. I have the privilege of wiping the sweat from their fevered brows, reminding them to put the seat down, sending them back to wash their hands with soap this time. I get to pick up their car collections, fill up their water balloons, and throw pop-ups and grounders until my arm aches. It is exhausting and discouraging and overwhelming and...perfect. I have no doubt that it's one of the reasons God put me on this earth. I know I fail often and I complain at times but I am also so grateful for every bike ride, every wiffle ball game, every time I get to comfort and hold one of my boys. I know that they are only mine on loan for a short time. Potty training so quickly turned into kindergarten and now it is multiplication tables and chapter books. I thank God for the time I get with them and the unconditional love we share. Yes, we discipline, we whine, we argue and back talk, and drive each other nuts but then there are the guns and all seems good again.

So, as I take another temperature and refill my coffee cup, I will take an extra second to add toy guns to my gratitude list, right below fever- filled nights  and ear infections because I know how very good I have it right now I want to make sure I will always remember.



Ironically, I wrote this blog entry about 24 hours before Garrett was admitted to the hospital. His little body was struggling to keep his temperature down and he was becoming dehydrated. It was a horrible three days. He hated the bed and, in fact, did not ever sleep in it. He didn't eat more than three bites of hospital food and, unfortunately, those didn't stay down. He had to endure multiple needle sticks,       x rays, scans, hourly vitals. He fevered and he had IVs and monitors. He cried and I had to restrain him and hold him and pray. We both shed too many tears and the sleepless nights turned into sleepless days. As I sat there looking out that window into the world going on below, I kept thinking about this post and it became my personal cheer. I wanted to get back to our everyday crazy. The backyard ball, his little red pirate bat, his chocolate milky juice, and the "guns". It was a blessed lesson on embracing the simple joys and irritations of life because when the going gets tough, that is what will keep you going. G is better now. As I sit here typing he is walking around in his jammy pants swinging his little red baseball bat and watching the pirates with his brothers. I love it all. The mess, the smiles, the noisy chaos, and, of course, the  "guns".