My oldest has strep. She is so sick that her throat is almost swollen shut. She actually told me she was afraid to go to sleep because she might not know that she quit breathing because air couldn’t reach her lungs and she would die. I stayed with her until her room mates came home. Though I’m assuming the likelihood of her dying from swollen-uvula-and throat-asphyxiation is pretty slim, I didn’t want to take a chance.
She has gone so far as to drink water and eat two Popsicles, but she has found that her throat is so swollen that liquid in larger swallows goes UP into her sinuses rather than DOWN into her stomach. You can imagine her apprehension to even try Chicken & Stars. Who wants to have pasta stars stuck in their sinus cavity? Not her, for sure.
So, I had to run out this evening to pick up popsicles and make a frozen-treat-for-dirty-laundry exchange. You know that clean laundry is low when you find beach towels in mid-December in the laundry hamper. The girl had run out of clean and second-time-around used bath towels and moved on to the beach towels. Christmas traffic is only second to Masters traffic in Augusta, Georgia. The closer we get to the 25th, the more congested even the “hidden shortcuts” become. Rather than zigzag around and about, I decided to take the shorter route to my destination tonight though I knew it would be heavily trafficked: (ominous music in the background … duh duh duh DUM) Washington Road.
It is quite a task to cross the two lanes of Washington Road traffic from the middle, turn lane so I try to be polite and let people turn in front of me. Even if you stop to let someone cross from the center, the person in the lane NEXT to you (that is traveling in the same direction) must also stop, as well, in order for the oncoming car to cross traffic.
This evening, I stopped to let a lady in a big, manly red truck leave the main road and turn into a store parking lot. (I went back down Washington Road today for re-enactment photos because no story is just good without visuals. Sorry, but I just couldn’t wait for perfect costuming. You’re looking at a substitute for the truck: an older lady in a silver van … though, she did the same thing as the lady in the red van!!! Is it a female trait to be a overly cautious while driving? ) She didn’t budge. She remained in that center “suicide” lane.
I’m watching my rear and side view mirrors. There are cars coming in the second lane, but there are breaks and some cars are traveling slowly. I want to yell at her, “Pull out! Come on! You can do it!” The person behind me is becoming impatient with my “over-politeness.” I was waiting for a horn honk to my rear … one to try to motivate me to move, but was thankful that I didn’t hear one. (Ahhhh… but today, for the re-enactment photos, the man directly behind me waited patiently but the guy in the second car …. Oh, my! He’s not from around here because we don’t act the way he was acting. He was driving some schmantsy black Escaladey type car (deep black, shiny and expensive looking) and pounding his leather-glove encapsulated fists on his steering wheel. He his head was bobbing and he was fussing … and probably not saying nice things. It was not a pretty sight.)
I watched this woman. She was in a great, big sturdy truck. She should have been able to see most of traffic that was coming as she was higher off the ground than most of us. She should have been brave enough to AT LEAST pull on out in front of me so that oncoming traffic COULD see her and allow you to cross. She knew I was holding traffic for her. I was helping her, for goodness sake! But, she still had to make the move. She sat safely … in that suicide lane … motionless.
And I wondered how often God sees me and thinks,
“Just PULL OUT! Go ahead. It’s okay!”
“Jump. I can see. You’ll be fine! I have it all planned out.”
“Just do it! I’ve got your back! Really!”
I wonder if He pounds His “steering wheel” and yells
“Come on!!!” (not that He’s mad at me … just frustrated)
And I sit there, in my massive, sturdy protection,
able to see farther than most,
others behind me wanting to honk impatiently
because I’m choosing not to make a move
while the way is laid out before me,
Him holding back the onslaught,
but I remain motionless.
Oh, that I would live my life bravely
trusting that He will
and catch me when I fall
simply because He says that He will.
May your day be blessed
and filled with bravery.