Two weeks ago, I hit a new low. After weeks of sickness swapped back and forth, back and forth, I decided that enough was flippin enough. Without much (any) forethought, I did what only the best and brightest of parents do. I bribed my kids. Y’all, I bribed my kids to stay healthy. I offered a dollar to any child of mine who could go an entire week without 1. vomiting and 2. a fever. A tall order these days, for sure.
The very moment the offer escaped my lips, I saw Matt giving me The Look. Specifically, The Look of a parent who deems your parenting decision WHACK but knows better than to call you out in front of the kids. That Look.
Later, it was all “you know, Catherine- our kids aren’t exactly in control of whether or not they get sick”… to which I now say “HA!” Because last week was a glorious week of health up in here. No fevers. No vomiting. No doctors. GLORIOUS. They each got their buck, and mama got a tiny break.
A teeny tiny break. A day after the dollars were distributed, Mary Grace started vomiting. And the day after, Matt came down with the flu.
I just don’t even know.
Except, maybe I do. A little bit at least.
I know that the Lord is continuing to teach me dependence. Maybe I’m a broken record here. Probably. But it’s true. I am nothing, have nothing, can do nothing apart from Him. And any good that I do have? Grace. It’s all grace.
In the sickness, the moving, the surgeries, the “yes, God, I will”s- in it all– I’m learning that it’s not all about me after all. He’s training my eyes to gaze up rather than in. Training isn’t always easy. Training leaves you sore. Bruised. Sometimes broken.
But I’m also learning this beautifully predictable rhythm as I follow Him. The pouring and filling that happens. How I feel so empty… tired… sometimes a little beaten and broken… as I pour and I pour. Into my husband. Into my children. Into whatever He’s called me to. And how He is faithful to always fill me back up. With His love and grace. His strength and wisdom. Always.
In Scripture, God calls Himself “the fountain of living waters” (Jeremiah 2:13). I find myself coming back to this verse and this imagery often, typically on the heels of uttering the words “I’m spent”… “I’m empty”… “I’ve got nothing left to give”. Because here’s the thing: he does. He has everything to give because He already gave it all. On the cross. For me.
And as I sit in that truth, in that love, I feel once again the fountain doing its work. Filling me until I’m overflowing. Living water restoring life. Until I have no choice but to pour out again.
