Updated: Jul 27, 2020
A little over five days ago, I found myself yet once more, in the doctor’s office, Baby Nugget in-toe, preparing to confirm that she too (along with Monkey) had an ear infection. Having a meaningful and overdue conversation with my incredible mom. My mom, who, showed up to save the day, once again, because Baby Nugget’s appointment was going to run into my work day, and I would not be able to get her where she needed to be.
We talked about life. Our excitement for Christmas preparations. The girls. Relationships. Her sore back. Her upcoming appointment to check on her back. How we despised hospitals. Except when we absolutely have to be in/at them. We giggled at Baby Nugget and at the doctor’s silly jokes. And we left, as normal. Baby Nugget going home with Grandma, and me, driving off to school. Not having any idea of just how much our conversation would come full-circle within less than 12 hours…
The day continued on as usual. I picked up the girls, driving them home at dusk, equipped with watchful eyes for the usual Christmas lights displays. Baths. Dinner. Typical bedtime craziness. With three little babes finally tucked in as close to bedtime as we can manage these days. And then, as only God’s timing would permit, the garage door opened from my husband, who had just finished driving his father home from the hospital, just as I received word that my own mother was admitted to the local ER. Sigh.
Our world has definitely been rocked over the past few days. Our parents are a.m.a.z.i.n.g. Beyond amazing. Not only did they raise us, but they are now with us, side-by-side, each-and-every day possible, helping to care for our own daughters. On their own free will. Guiding us in keeping life smooth-sailing and normal. But for now, normal was out the window. Focuses shifted. And concerns for our parents skyrocketed to the top of our priority lists. Worry, tears and sleepless nights have showered in. But I still could not help notice, through all the anxiousness, waiting by the phone and praying, the ever-giving grace of God was endless…
Monday evening bedtime, Miss O reminded me that she was having a Pajama Day at school the next day. She was adamant about wearing a certain princess nightgown. Dora fleece jammies just weren’t going to cut it. I was just as adamant in warning her that I had no clue where these jammies might be, and not to get her hopes up of them being ready for her. She understood, but I knew she was disappointed. So, as early Tuesday morning rolled around (in a major limbo of not knowing what would happen with my mom), I was feeling very tired and deflated. Nonetheless, I knew I had to finish the laundry. Lo-and-behold. Guess what was staring me in the face upon opening the dryer door. The coveted pink “three princesses” nightgown. (Sigh.) I could not release the “Thank you, Dear Lord” whisper from my lips fast enough.
But His grace did not stop there. With puffy eyes, a runny nose, and three little babes along for the ride, we weathered the cold and rain to get some much-needed medicine for Baby Nugget at the store. We were not more than five feet in the door, when two complete strangers greeted us with welcoming smiles and heartwarming words:
~”You look like you’ve got it all under control, Mom. Doing a great job! What a sweet little group of helpers!”
~”Can we follow you through the store? I think I could learn a thing or two from a pro like you!”
They didn’t have to say that. Maybe they sensed from my face that I needed a little boost. Whatever it was, these mama’s ears couldn’t have been happier to hear what they had to say.
…trying to keep hands to sides walking past a Christmas candy display, while squeals and giggles filled the aisle, we passed a young woman whose lip corners were just starting to curl up at their eagerness…
~”They are all so adorable!” (while laughing at their excitement)
This mama’s heart was melting. With each new “friend” we made.
Still, His grace continued to pour in. In the form of i.n.c.r.e.d.i.b.l.e. coworkers. Helping in any-and-every way possible, so that I could stay with my family and just be present. By way of complete strangers at the hospital, guiding me through a confusing maze of zig-zagging hallways and confusing corridors. Sparing a forgotten in-the-oven grilled cheese sandwich that should have been burnt to a crisp. Finding an extra-large tote filled to the brim with meal food for my family and more, showing up unexpectedly on my front porch, Thursday evening. Having four extra sets of hand in my classroom, upon returning Friday. The generous and countless offers to babysit and watch the girls, so I could catch up on everything Christmas. Filling my inbox with sweet messages from my incredible blogging friends, who took the time, from across the country, to check in on my family and me.
Never. once. has. it. stopped. And that is the beauty of it all. Most of the time, we venture through life oblivious to many of the tiniest graces placed in our “way” each day. But, as a curveball comes roaring our direction, and things just aren’t falling into place as planned…as we find ourselves relying upon any ounce of hope and prayer in the midst of instability, we take note. Of the miniscule. The grand. The miracles. All of it. Because those are the moments when we rely on Him the most. On our faith. What a powerful reminder.
To open our eyes. Our hearts. Our souls. Not just during the “weary” stretches of life, but also in the joyous. In the ordinary. In the smooth-sailing. Each-and-every day. And to purposefully observe. At all that God bestows upon us through His blessing of ever-giving grace.