“The Lord knows what you need,” my mother told me when I first had Jameson. If I got 5 hours of interrupted sleep, well, must be that would be enough to get me through the day.
I think of that often, hang onto it like a lifeline.
When William was up for all but two hours (two nights in a row) thanks to his fever, I slipped many times towards the edge of murmuring. But no. The Lord would make up the difference — and He did. I smiled at the end of those days when I realized, Hey! I made it!
See? He knew.
Today, dinner was being prepared. William was starting to fuss, but I left him for one minute more while I quickly slid the bread into the oven… Long story short, Pyrex shattered all over the floor, and that “one minute” turned into many while I frantically cleaned. William’s sobs were escalating, and he was starting to choke on his tears. I was frustrated to begin with (who enjoys broken glass?), and then cut my finger. Agh! I was thinking about perhaps getting really upset about the whole shebang when I glanced over and realized Jameson had quickly moved to the farthest wall in the kitchen and had stood there quietly the entire time I cleaned. This is a big deal: he usually wants to be involved every time there’s a broom or vacuum, and lets me know with much to-do (read: bad attitude!) But not today. Today he stood quietly watching — and it was grace. A small miracle.
(I’m on the lookout for those recently, and do you know, they’re everywhere!)
Later on, when things had calmed down, I realized, too, that the Lord knows what I need, and He knows what I can handle. Perhaps a 2 year old meltdown would have been just enough to push me over the edge today — who knows?
Small miracles, but to me, like Jesus showing up in my day.