Today is Sunday and I am sitting going over the happenings of the entire day.
This little one:
Who NEVER cries in church let lose in a way that only other mother’s can commiserate with. He screamed, he yelled, he went straight as a board, he cried. For the record, I took him out as soon as the wails started – so no glaring at me! Sir Twizzler DOES. NOT. CRY. IN. CHURCH. It’s a weird but appreciated characteristic of his. He enjoys our pastor, he enjoys the singing, he enjoys the call and response so prevalent in black churches, but today he was not having it.
So I took him out.
I walked him.
I gave him water.
I tried to cradle him in my arms.
I took off his tie.
I took off his shirt.
We went outside (it was 66 degrees here in Chicago – BEAUTIFUL weather)
My MOTHER came out to see if she could do anything.
Other folk came to check on him
And my patience was starting to run low.
Not because he was crying. But because I, his own mother, could NOT figure out what in the world was wrong with him! I have a bit of an issue with people giving me that tsk, tsk, tsk, look when one of my children happen to not be in the greatest of moods and then they say something like this:
“Aww, come on sweetheart, I can help you feel better.”
However, this time I didn’t glare at the well-meaning lay members. I just silently smiled and told them thank you – and I meant it. Honestly.
We went back outside and as he was writhing in my arms, and people were exiting the church, all of a sudden it hit me. Take off his shoes.
They weren’t too tight. They weren’t too small. But THEY were bothering HIM.
So I unlaced both shoes, and when I removed the second one, he stopped crying, looked at me and promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth.
No more tears.
Sometimes, I know that we get to a point where we are so frustrated with the way things are working out in our lives, and we feel as if we have tried EVERY, SINGLE, THING on earth to make a situation better. Well meaning friends and family try to come through to soothe us, but it doesn’t help. It’s then that we need the Lord (and no, I’m not comparing myself to God right now – just our roles in that I’m Sir Twizzler’s parent, and that God is my heavenly father – he’s in a guiding role) to come and comfort us as only he can. We have to TRUST and BELIEVE that He is going to get down to the nitty-gritty BECAUSE of his love for us.
The Bible says:
2 Corinthians 1:3-4
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. (NIV)
What THING are you allowing to bother you that you can’t get rid of yourself? Continue to cry out to God and know that He’ll come through RIGHT on time and IN time to comfort you.
For Sir Twizzler, it was a pair of shoes.