This past Sunday morning, I left Jim at home with Parker who was sleeping in his crib. His nose is (still) oozing greenish/yellow gook, and for that, he thanks his big brother. Just before Jake and I left, I told Jim if God didn’t change my heart within the next eight miles, it might be best for me to put it in reverse and come back home. The last thing I wanted to do was “go take of someone else’s screaming kid” when at times it feels like it’s all I can do to care for my own. I strapped Jake into his car seat, and these thoughts came to mind - “How can I possibly have this attitude when I’m being asked to do a job for my Lord? How wrong is this to think so negatively about being of service to Him? Because that’s what this is, Cindi. This is a ministry that you’ve been called to, and it’s the most important part of your day and week.”
I left our driveway and then our neighborhood. My stubbornness didn’t want me to pray. My conscience said, “Yes, you will.”
We pulled into our church parking lot and went inside. No one knew that Parker woke up at 3am and then again before 6. No one knew that Jake startled me out of bed by turning the monitor on my bedside table to its loudest volume to let me know Parker was crying. And no one knew I threatened to not show up at all because they probably wouldn’t miss me anyway. Except for God.
But he had already prepared my heart, gave me His unfailing forgiveness, and gave me a new attitude. He gave me the arms to rock a ten-month old to sleep who his dad said, “never takes to anyone.” And he gave me the reminder I desperately needed that Parker’s preschool would be closed until August 5th for their Summer break.
Turns out my gut feeling that I needed to just suck it up and do what I knew I had to do were right on the money.
"Thank you, Father."
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