Having spent much of Sunday night in the emergency room with my dehydrated five-year-old, I woke up Monday morning, well, exhausted. (Not a good way to start a new day, much less a new week.) Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Spent.
And here I am on Tuesday morning feeling much the same way. Struggling to pry myself away from facebook games and self-pity parties as I watch my daughter (hopefully)sleep away the nausea. Thanking God for what we like to call "liquid gold" (the really expensive medicine that stops her from throwing up, which we would -- and did-- pay any amount of money for). And racking my brain - and my heart - for other things I can be encouraged by and thankful for.
Part of the problem is that I've already been here, done that, and don't want to do it again. See, we did this last March. First the e.r., then nine days later a three-day stay for her in the hospital. All for dehydration. We've run the gamut -- from barf bowls to I.V.'s to pull-up diapers for diarrhea and more. And, quite frankly, I don't want to run that gamut again.
But here we are. Right smack in the middle of the gamut.
And as I'm running -- no, crawling -- through it, I'm searching for something to grasp. Some piece of hope that tells me she's not going to throw up again. That my older daughter won't get it. Even just that God is going to use this to give me some incredible insight or wisdom or depth or something.
But, honestly, right now, I've got nothing but the fact that somehow -- I'm guessing by God's new mercies -- I made it through yesterday.
Lamentations 3:22-23 (New International Version)
22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.