Asking For More

It was the end of the service and we were singing our last song of the day when I saw her walk up the platform stairs and approach the guest speaker. She approached with an urgency that first made me a little concerned for the speaker. All I knew was that this woman was not ready to exit like the rest of the congregation.

I could tell she was a mother of young children by the familiar nursery sticker she wore on her top with her child’s number for security purposes. We had just listened to a Mother’s Day message about how to strengthen our families. It was encouraging and inspiring. My son took notes and texted them to me. Ahem.

While the band played behind me I saw the young woman lean in to tell the speaker something but all I could make out was, “What about…” After that it was time for me to sing my part. I don’t know what exactly this young mom was after, but what I saw that day hasn’t let me go.

Maybe it hasn’t let me go because I also have a million and one of those moments where I want to ask, “But what about…” and never have the courage to ask. That mama’s boldness to rush the stage and ask for more moved me to want to do the same.

I love how our guest speaker responded. After listening to this mama pour her heart out she pulled her close and prayed with her through the end of the closing song. It was beautiful.

There comes a time when we have to choose to reach out and ask for help or deal with the consequences of what might happen if we don’t. Neither one are comfortable in my experience, but I have never regretted getting help when I’ve asked. Even when the help isn’t perfect. Besides, I think Jesus loves it when we ignore the crowds and take a risk to ask him for more.

Ask him for more.

Jesus said, “Daugher, you took a risk trusting me, and now you’re healed and whole. Live well, live blessed!”–Luke 8:48 The Message

When Mr. Steady Met Nurse Ratched

A few weeks ago I drove my husband to the emergency room. We didn’t leave the hospital for two and a half days. A few days later we went back for surgery. One moment he was fine, the next he was anything but fine.

My man has always been my rock. He is Mr. Steady. The truest friend. Old reliable. I’m the needy one in our relationship. He has stuck by me through major depression, chronic health issues, pms that would scare a badger, surgeries, and morning sickness that lasted 9 months–twice. On the rare occasion he manages to get sick I have to dig really deep to find enough compassion to nurture him. If he’s lucky he might get 24 hours to moan and groan about whatever ails him. After that I turn into Nurse Ratched. SUCK IT UP, BUDDY! GET OVER IT! He is one lucky man.

It turns out that Mr. Steady isn’t quite as invincible as I thought he was. A severe injury has left him pretty beat up and needy. The bruises are fading and the incision is healing, but we are a long way from being back to normal.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve been the perfect wife and nurse and that he’s been the perfect husband and patient, but this isn’t a Hallmark Channel movie. The truth is that this has left us both vulnerable and exposed to pain and I’m sure we have both responded in ways that would be better suited for an R rated war movie.

In all of those times I needed him to be my rock I don’t think it ever ocurred to me that my pain wasn’t just happening to me, it was happening to him too. Dang. Realizing that doesn’t automatically make me a better wife and nurse, but it sure does humble me in areas that are in need of some fresh humility. Dang.

I wish there was a magic pill we could take to make all of this go away overnight, but there isn’t. We are in this for the long haul. For better or for worse, we are in this together.

Your prayers have meant the world to us. Thank you.

Thanks for stopping by.

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