Wednesday, October 10, 2007

St. Louis, Here We Come!

Well, it is official. We'll be heading to St. Louis on the 21st. We have an 8 AM appt. on the 22nd and then we'll be driving home again. Ten hours each way. Ten hours with a 14 year old and a 10 year old who like to get on the other's last nerve. Ten hours of "I'm hungry. What did you bring to eat? What do you mean there aren't any cookies?" Ten hours of "Are we there yet?" Ten hours of wondering what the outcome will be and remembering to turn it back over to the Lord again and again. Ten hours of Laura fussing because she's strapped in to her car seat and she can't lay down to sleep.

And that's just one way...

On the way home, since I'm expecting her to be in at least one full leg cast, it will be ten hours of wet plaster. Ten hours of her fussing because her foot and leg are immobile. Ten hours of having to hold her hand to comfort her, even when she's in a deep sleep. Ten hours of noises from gameboys. Ten hours of "Mom! He touched me!" Ten hours of "Mom! He is being selfish!" Ten hours of "Mom! I have to pee! Now!" Ten hours of watching agriculture whiz by us along with the same cars and trucks we'll think we saw as they passed us up as we slowed down at the last rest stop. Ten hours of time with my Mom. Ten hours to talk and listen to her wisdom.

When we get home, we'll be here for at least a week before we do it all again. And when we get home we'll know more about what Dr. Dobbs thinks the outcome for her will be long term. That's what makes my stomach churn. So that means I have 10 days of reminding myself that the Lord is in charge and that HE is the one who created her feet and he'll take care of it. That's just more in a long line of learning to turn things over to him instead of chewing on them myself. Perhaps the Lord gave Laura to us for more reasons than I've realized so far. Perhaps she is here to provide the Lord with opportunities for me to grow in him, to learn to depend on him, to remember before I start sweating that he's always in charge when I let him. Perhaps that is what parenting is all about in the first place. After all, parenting definitely isn't for pansies!

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