Sometimes I'm Forced To Reflect. Not Sure I Like It.

Three babies were baptized this morning at our church, which means the odds of one of them crying were pretty good. One of them did and of course no one minded because it's such a wonderful thing to watch (we're water sprinklers, by the way, no dunking or pouring). It's wonderful to say "amen" when the congregation is asked to help raise these children.

Anyway, one of the babies did not enjoy the water part and, before the morning prayer which happened immediately after the baptism, one of our pastors commented and his words made me think. I don't especially like that; it's much simpler to breezily float through life. This is gist of what he said and apologies to Ben for the attempt (can't find the paper I wrote his words on).

We are like these infants here. They have no idea what just happened, just that water was just put on their heads for apparently no reason. Sometimes it is a thunderstorm and sometimes it is a sprinkle and sometimes we cry because we don't see the blessing that is in it.

I need to see the rainy blessing more often. The days are rare when I don't feel some sprinkling of water and there are a lot of thunderstorms, and my knee-jerk reaction is usually irritability. An example: Lizzy has a huge melon. Her pediatrician wanted to rule out anything (especially since her gross motor skills are behind the others), so we had an ultrasound on her head done a couple months ago. Several frustrating/rainy things happened:
1. It is not easy to find babysitting for 3 other kids during the day
2. The visit was, of course, during naptime = crabby child.
3. They were almost an hour behind schedule and they brought us back at the time I had told my sitter I would be home.
4. Lizzy screamed the entire time.
5. We were now VERY late to a birthday party for one of Ainsley's friends who did not live close by (we ended up being there for maybe 45 minutes and she loves, loves, loves going over there. It was not easy to leave.). I was on my second round of babysitting because I couldn't bring the crumbgobblers to a birthday party.

Everything was normal. The kid just has a big head and we hope she will grow into it someday.

So I was driving home, complaining to myself and God about what a waste of time it was, why did we have to go through a crappy day, why was it raining and cold, waah, waah, waah. Rain, rain, rain on my head. Then a brick smacked me broadside. I stopped. I felt sick because I realized I was whining about how my kid, my preemie, my sweet Lizzy (the biter), is healthy. All my kids are healthy. As far as we know, we're 4 for 4 and are crazy blessed (that word is so overused; I'm almost embarrassed to use it.). I had the audacity to be angry and I felt ill and ashamed because of it.

Solo deo gloria. Forever and ever.