The new year at our household was rung in with lots of puking. Unfortunately for us, not for overindulging. I had been nauseated all day, but managed to keep things down. The baby woke up in the middle of the night covered in puke. We got him downstairs and bathed him only for him to turn around and hurl all over the bathroom and his clean self. Choking back my own urges, I started to feel sorry for myself. I then decided to look for the good in this. I started praising God that I wasn't a pioneer woman. That I had a bathtub with running water. That my son had more than one pair of pajamas. That I had a functioning washing machine, not a washboard and bucket. That he more than likely would not die from this illness. That I was an American with access to healthcare. That I was able to stay at home with him and not have to run off to work the next day (unfortunately daddy still had to!) Suddenly, the putred stench was not quite as bad. The work before me went quickly and three hours later we were tucked back into bed with only 46 loads of laundry left to do! He is still sick today, but getting better. One day at a time. By the way, is it bad to consider letting your child sleep in the empty bathtub?
"I will extol the Lord at all times; his praise will always be on my lips."
Psalm 34:1
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1 comment:
This was really convicting, Kara.
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