Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Cold Toast



I wrote this post two years ago, but I admit I still struggle with patience.  The Lord is still working on me, thank goodness. . .
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Mama?!! Can you come here?

Abbey's words echoed down the hallway to the kitchen where I was making my breakfast of buttered toast and coffee. I had just taken my first bite of toast when she called me from her bedroom.



Knowing full well she just wanted to tell me something that absolutely could wait until I finished, I took another bite and sat down at the table. I needed more time to wake up and LOTS more coffee before being a mom. 

"Mamaaaaaaaa!? Are you coming?!" Higher-pitched and more urgent this time.

Aggravated, I left my food on the table and headed down the hall. I stopped in her doorway, thinking it would only take a second. 

"Whatcha need?" I asked.  [I know. I know. Such a kind and loving way to greet my youngest child first thing in the morning. Not.]

Her little voice started, "I wanted to come find you in the middle of the night because I had a bad dream. It was about Bai..."  She paused and looked up at my impatient expression.  Her face dropped.  And then, penetrating my heart like a knife, she said, "You can leave. I will just tell you later."  

A hard kick to the gut by a UFC fighter would have felt better. I felt guilty and embarrassed. I took my two-inch tall, mother-of-the-year self straight to her bed and lay down beside her, wrapped my arms around her and kissed her soft cheek. 

"Sweetie, please forgive me.  I want to hear about your bad dream."  She chose to stay quiet for a few minutes and just kept her head on my chest. She finally told me the scary dream she had about her beloved pet dachshund Bailey.  The details were mild, but to a seven-year-old mind, they were huge and scary and sleep-interrupting.  

Ten minutes later and satisfied she was going to be okay, I left her to catch a few more winks and returned to my breakfast. My coffee was lukewarm and my toast was cold.  I ate it anyway.  It felt like appropriate consequences for my initial reaction to my child's call for attention. 

I am very thankful that I can't see God's expression when I need His attention.  Do you think He gets aggravated when I call Him away from the really important, daily miracles He is performing? Regardless, He faithfully listens to my nightmares, too. 

Thank goodness He is capable and powerful enough to do both.  

Thank goodness He doesn't tell me to wait in line or come back tomorrow.  

And thank goodness He doesn't mind cold toast.  


"But in my distress I cried out to the LORD; yes, I prayed to my God for help. He heard me from his sanctuary; my cry to him reached his ears." Psalms 18:6

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