A quiet, squeaky voice is all she has left right now. The barky cough sends warning signals coursing through my mommy brain. Betty always seems more bitty when she’s sick. The yellow crayon band-aid was little comfort to the painful steroid shot received at the doctor this morning. Although this is about the third day I’ve eaten lunch at two o’clock-ish, and haven’t donned my chef hat for at least as long, I’m trying to get a closer perspective. To get outside these four walls of thinking, to see what might be lost in worry.
Recently a friend of mine gave me a macro lens for my camera. It basically brings into focus what the naked eye rarely sees. I just went outside to see what I normally don’t see because I’m either too busy or unconcerned. The mirror-like water droplets reflecting back the sky.
Intricate geranium buds bursting with potential.
Delicate folds of each rose petal.
At first I only saw the daisy, then I saw the insect.
Then I finally saw the life and death struggle between spider, victim, and concerned friend.
At first I only saw striking orange flowers. Then I saw their detail, like the most beautifully layered ruffles on a skirt.
Then I saw the pollen tucked under this guy as he searched for more.
I only saw the gangling tomato plant, but then the brilliant caterpillar came into view. His amazing colors and feet captivated my attention.
God gives astounding attention to detail. He dresses the flowers in ruffles and hues the best seamstresses can never replicate. He paints the caterpillar the most amazing color of green with fun yellow dots. He knows about our struggles and pain. He cares about you. Today one of our children asked me why Betty had to get sick. I simply have no answer to that question, or any of the millions of other hurts only God knows about.
Immediately after writing that, Elsie came inside, blood coming out from all around her mouth. Her top lateral incisor gone, and blood still flowing, we decided to go to the ER. Even though my mom was on her way, leaving a wheezy, crying Betty to take a crying, bloodied Elsie to the ER felt completely overwhelming. I cried down Route 82 and onto started saying Elsie’s Bible verses out loud to her: Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be afraid, for I am your God. Do not be afraid. You are more important than many small birds. It calmed us both down. Two hours later, we are home, did not find the lost tooth, and she’s smiling a swollen smile. Yes, God cares for us more than we can imagine. He is still good, even through croupy coughs, knocked out teeth, sick kids, and difficult days. Look at who He is closely.