Some Women Are Dripping With Diamonds

If you've ever seen the Annie movie, you may remember a song that Miss Hanigan sings. 

Some women are dripping with diamonds
Some women are dripping with pearls
Lucky me, lucky me
Look at what I'm dripping with . . .

Little girls

I feel a little like Miss Hanigan this week.  Our dear friends R. and T. had a getaway for a few days and we get to take care of their daughters who are seven and five.  They are GREAT kiddos!  However, I've learned that jumping from four to six kids is a bit challenging.  We keep running out of kid plates and have had to separate the older two from the younger two at night due to too much giggling.  :)  The nice part is that the girls are also homeschooled, so they fit right into our routine.  And their mama packed three meals for everyone plus daily schoolwork for them, so it helped quite a bit.

One funny moment: last week Spunky told me that she had figured out glue works really well to stick things to the fridge.  We had to have a big talk about why we don't do that, of course.  So yesterday we had a Mad Hatter Tea Party and the two big girls wanted to surprise me.  Bright and early in the morning they tidied up the downstairs and put up little teacup decorations that they made.  It was so sweet!  . . . until I figured out they had GLUED the teacups to the walls!  And the cupboards.  My eyes must have gotten really big when I discovered it, because Spunky was quick to point out "But don't worry mom; we didn't glue ANYTHING to the fridge!!" 

Sometimes there just aren't words. :)

Faith and Doubt

Yesterday morning I woke up, made breakfast for the kids, and ate a bagel.  Then I started cleaning the house and moping.  Why?  It was supposed to be the first half-marathon in a series of four I was going to do this month.  I was training with a great team and was so excited to raise money for hurting families in India.

Sigh.  A while back I mentioned having bursitis in my hip.  I was under the impression it would be a couple of weeks to heal, but the last word from the chiropracter (and later a physical therapist) was that it takes more like six months. 

I had no idea how this would hit me emotionally.  This morning I finally ended up talking to Ethan about it and it all became clear.  I realized that I've been doubting God for letting this happen to me.  That came as a total shock.  When our little boy died I didn't doubt God.  It was horrible; the worst thing I could imagine for anyone, yet I had complete faith in His plan for our lives and Isaac's life.  I had total peace.  When Bubba was diagnosed as autistic I was upset, but never doubted God or the direction our lives would take.  When I was hospitalized for three months with the pregnancy I didn't ask God why.  I didn't have to understand the details because I trusted in Him. 

Now, however, I'm having a crisis of faith over a running injury?  It seems a little ridiculous.  But it's so unfair.  I've never really been athletic, unless you count dancing.  To actually enjoy running, and not have given up the thousand times I wanted to roll back over and go to sleep again . . . it was something special. 

I realized that in the other difficulties we've gone through we've been covered in prayer by hundreds of people.  No wonder we had peace!  And yet during a struggle with this I feel like I'm going through it alone.  I can just hear my non-running friends thinking, Oh yeah . . . poor girl doesn't get to torture herself anymore.  :)  I get that!  I would have said the same thing a couple of years ago. 

I've realized that I'm blessed.  Lucky.  I've had the good fortune of having people love me and my family enough to pray for us.  What a gift!  And now that I've talked to Ethan, I realize that I need to be the one praying about peace.  About my attitude.  And hopefully the hip will heal while I learn this lesson. 


"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." 
-- Romans 15: 12-14