“I keep praying, but it’s not helping.”
I sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his back. It was 2 a.m. Earlier, he shared that he had prayed for God to keep him from puking.
“Because I hate to puke, God.”
That prayer was not answered.
Now, he lies in bed, back to me…a pitiful thing.
“Um…oh, well…sometimes God likes us to learn by going through troubles.”
“You mean by making us better?”
“By being with us through them.”
“But God can do anything. Why doesn’t He make me better?”
“I don’t know sweetie. Maybe He wants to be your comfort. Do you feel Him?”
“Sometimes I do. But I don’t right now.”
“Well, He is here.”
My house is in a fog of sickness. Little Jeffrey started last night. Now all three of my guys have succumbed to the stomach virus. I don’t know why I’ve been spared, but I’m too sleep-deprived to do anything about it.
There is still shopping that needs done, gifts that need wrapped, and I have a twenty pound turkey in the fridge waiting for a company of twelve to have Christmas dinner here on Thursday.
I feel like I must fumigate first.
Despite all that needs doing…
In my quiet time yesterday, I read Job 29. In this chapter, Job is describing the high standing he once enjoyed among men.
But I couldn’t help reading his words as describing the Lord.
V24—“When I smiled at them, they scarcely believed it; the light of my face was precious to them.”
Oh, Lord of my heart, when you smile at me, I can scarcely believe it. You take my breath away. The light of your face is precious to me.
In the midst of this sickness, You have revealed yourself in the sweetest of ways.
My Comfort. My Strength.
I love you.
In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.