This day.

Sniffly. Sniffle. Sniffle.

I ab a colb. Translation: I have a cold.
Bobby is sick. Translation: Mommy is sick.

I'm sitting in bed drinking orange juice. I've cleaned up throw up twice today. Just as Libby was putting on her jacket to go to school and her ride called to say she was on her way Libby told me. "Mommy, my cough-er's comin'" This means she is about to throw up. I grab a bowl.

Today I feel a mite bit cursed. Last night I was feeling a little too happy. Our bedroom is in order. Meaning the bedroom. Meaning the closet in our bedroom and our dressers and our bookshelves. And under the bed. Everything. It looks great.

I thought today would be great. But it's been lousy. It teaches me that I tend to place my hope in certain things and not in God. Like I thought if my room was clean everything would be okay. My life would be perfect. The truth is that whatever it is we think is's not. We finally lose that weight. We finally get the new house or new car or great job. So we think we will be happy and life will be great. But its' not and we're not. Why? Because God is the only source of contentment. He is the One who is more than enough. And if I am putting my hope in something else, it won't be enough. It never is. So rejoice over those "finally" things but recognize... its happiness won't last. You'll want more. The great thing about God is He is enough and we want more... but it's a good thing... because He truly satisfies. He is lasting. He fulfills.

So now that I'm done preaching (primarily to myself)... I"m going to put on Veggie Tales and blow my nose....and maybe try and pray or something beneficial.


Wendy said…

I just want to come help you lysol the house and care for the kids in seperate rooms so you can all get better. Nothing like passing the germs around, and around, and around!! I am so sorry friend. Wow! You are right though and don't we all need to preach it to ourselves everyday...keep talking girl.

Popular posts from this blog

Saying Goodbye to my friend Celinda

Rub-A-Dub Dub... 3 boys in a tub.

When you can’t outrun the diagnosis