if you feel like you're on the sidelines
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This morning was as rough as expected, being the first school day after spring break. First, we slept in. Then Jocelyn whined about wanting to stay home to do all the fun things we didn't do during spring break because of the great stomach bug of 2013.
I went through the motions, packing lunch and motivating Jocelyn to get dressed and making juice cups and heating a bottle of milk and changing a diaper. As I loaded the kiddos in the car, I glanced across the street.
The sweet older gentleman, who brought us flowers the day we moved in, lay crumbled and motionless in his driveway.
My heart stung, every muscle engaged to run across the road to help. But another neighbor was already at his side, and he assured me that he had alerted the in-home nurse. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw the nurse dial 911 on a cordless phone. Lee returned from walking the dog moments later to offer assistance, but the ambulance arrived just after he did.
I knew my role. I needed to be with my kids.
Still, I felt sidelined from the action.
I continued going through the motions, answering questions like "Is he dead, Mommy?" and "Why do some geckos have to lick their eyes instead of having eyelids?"
We practiced this month's Bible memory passage for the children's church program.
We made afterschool plans, including a promise that we'd go for a long walk in the beautiful spring weather.
The entire time my mind was on the help I wasn't able to provide to our dear neighbor.
As I dropped Jocelyn off and returned to our neighborhood, I glanced back at the neighbor's now-empty driveway. The water someone sprayed on it didn't wash away the bloodstain.
Instead of feeling remiss that I hadn't been there, though, I realized something:
I had been in the action the whole time. While another neighbor and a nurse and my husband and a few EMTs were meant to be caring for that man in his time of need, I was meant to be caring for three darling children in theirs.
When you're going through the motions of caring for your family, what you're doing is valuable. Eternally valuable.
(In case you're wondering, our neighbor was talking, though disoriented, when he left in the ambulance, and the prognosis sounds good for a man his age. Thanks be to God!)
I went through the motions, packing lunch and motivating Jocelyn to get dressed and making juice cups and heating a bottle of milk and changing a diaper. As I loaded the kiddos in the car, I glanced across the street.
The sweet older gentleman, who brought us flowers the day we moved in, lay crumbled and motionless in his driveway.
My heart stung, every muscle engaged to run across the road to help. But another neighbor was already at his side, and he assured me that he had alerted the in-home nurse. As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw the nurse dial 911 on a cordless phone. Lee returned from walking the dog moments later to offer assistance, but the ambulance arrived just after he did.
I knew my role. I needed to be with my kids.
Still, I felt sidelined from the action.
I continued going through the motions, answering questions like "Is he dead, Mommy?" and "Why do some geckos have to lick their eyes instead of having eyelids?"
We practiced this month's Bible memory passage for the children's church program.
We made afterschool plans, including a promise that we'd go for a long walk in the beautiful spring weather.
The entire time my mind was on the help I wasn't able to provide to our dear neighbor.
As I dropped Jocelyn off and returned to our neighborhood, I glanced back at the neighbor's now-empty driveway. The water someone sprayed on it didn't wash away the bloodstain.
Instead of feeling remiss that I hadn't been there, though, I realized something:
there are no sidelines
I had been in the action the whole time. While another neighbor and a nurse and my husband and a few EMTs were meant to be caring for that man in his time of need, I was meant to be caring for three darling children in theirs.
Moms, your action might look different from the action of those EMTs, but it matters. It matters so much.
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| {thanks to my beautiful friend Tish for letting me share this moment she captured with her son} |
When you're going through the motions of caring for your family, what you're doing is valuable. Eternally valuable.
Why? Because the ones you're teaching and feeding and carpooling and diapering and bandaging, they're valuable. Eternally valuable.
And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. {Galatians 6:9}
(In case you're wondering, our neighbor was talking, though disoriented, when he left in the ambulance, and the prognosis sounds good for a man his age. Thanks be to God!)