I think God's trying to tell me something about listening today. At least I think that's the message, I'm having a hard time paying attention. This happens to me a lot. It started today with Lydia getting ready for school. "Mom, I don't feel very good." I heard her say it, but I wasn't really listening. "Get ready anyway, and see how you feel after you eat." Standard Mom answer. I half-way hear my way through the morning. I'm not really with it today. Some of the kids leave for school, the other kids get ready to leave with me. On the way to school I get the call from Lydia. "Mom, I'm sick, can you come get me."
I pick her up and take her to the doctor. No Strep. Possibly allergies. Heading back home. I am in "get stuff done" mode, not exactly listening. Until I asked Lydia if she is alright staying home by herself. "I've done it before." She says, clearly not thrilled about it. Now I'm listening. "Mom, can you stay home with me?" My beloved, strong, independent 13 year old daughter needs me. Sorry, school. Mrs. Lee is right, Family First. My baby girl gets me today.
So all day long, while she laid on the couch, alternating between sleeping and feeling crappy, I worked at the computer. My head said "Stop, I'm getting achy." My eyes said, "give us a break!" but I wouldn't listen. I really should have taken up residence on the next couch. (We have a serious amount of couch space at our house.) BUT I WOULDN'T LISTEN! But, God is good and patient. He'll keep calling me to rest, and when He's done being polite, he'll stop me. He knows how to get my attention. He shouldn't have to go to extremes, but sometimes he does. I know I'll pay for it later.
The next phone call I get is from Sylvia. She's at school and she feels sick, and can I pick her up, even though it's the end of the day. Sure, babe. I'm here for you. When Harriett and I pick her up, she's laying on the bench, and I'm not listening to her say something like,"it's about time." So I sign her out and ask Jenny a question, and we pick up Simon, and I'm not listening to Sylvia, I'm thinking about RIF books. Mrs. Ed asks me a question, and I answer and we chat, and we go to leave and there it is. God yelled stop...in the form of Sylvia (or Mount Va-Sylvius as we now call her) projectile vomiting all over the hallway floor. She catches her breath and starts round 2 immediately. A bucket appears, and I start sweeping her into the bathroom. As we transition from bucket to toilet, she catches her breath long enough to yell, "I TOLD YOU I WAS SICK! I KNEW I WAS GOING TO THROW UP, BUT YOU DIDN'T LISTEN!"
I AM NOW LISTENING.
I can't be more sorry. We wash her hands up, together, and I apologize and hug her. Mrs. Ed gets us a garbage bag for the pukey clothes. She has managed to contaminate at least one piece of every one's clothing. There is a section of hallway 7 feet wide and 12 feet long now covered in the vomit-dust that they have at school. We need haz-mat suits. BUT.....I AM LISTENING. We rejoice in the fact that we had not yet gotten in the van...or on the school bus. Sylvia feels much better. Mrs. Ed mentions how impressed she is that one small child can hold that much stomach contents. Sylvia beams with pride.
I didn't make it to Mass tonight. I washed two daughters hair and combed and braided it. Just like I used to do, before I chose to be so busy. Back in the days when they couldn't do it themselves, and they needed me. I don't remember when I started thinking they didn't need me. Maybe I haven't been listening. As I mentioned, they have my attention. I am listening now.
I am not taking my semi-pukulated child to school tomorrow. I feel as rotten as she did earlier. Maybe I should have rested while I had the chance. We will be camping out on our couches, fasting for Good Friday.
I will be trying to listen to what is really important. I hope you will, too.
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