Amy, Uncensored

I've mentioned before that I'm reading a book entitled Brokenness. Now, at the moment I cannot, for the life of me, locate said book which I'm supposed to have read for tonight. I'm seriously considering taking that as God's sign that I am broken enough and no longer need that stinkin' book. However, something tells me that's probably not the case.

Now, one unfortunate effect this book has had on me is showing me many, many, many areas in my life where pride has a hold on me. I have always considered myself to pretty much be an open book. I pride myself on my transparency, but I've come to realize there are still many things about which I'm unwilling to be totally transparent. I know there are things that I say and do, even on this little blog, that still involve some attempt to put a nice sweet cover on the ugliness in me. I know I have made choices to add or delete certain things based on what people will think of me rather than what God sees in me. So, it is my new goal to be real with you. As a dear friend cautioned me recently, I will make every attempt to be sure that my weakness brings glory to God and not attention to me. That there is some point to my realness. Nevertheless, I do not want to be a whitewashed tomb. So, I'm just going to have to open the casket sometimes and let you get a fresh whiff of all the rottenness inside. You may not want to read this blog on a full stomach.

I just read a puritan prayer that sums me up pretty well:

O God, it is amazing that men can talk so much about man's creaturely power and goodness, when, if thou didst not hold us back every moment, we should be devils incarnate. This, by bitter experience, thou hast taught me concerning myself.

Just ask my family. There are moments they're pretty sure I'm a devil incarnate.

Speaking of devils and all things evil, I just got back from the pediatrician's office for the third time this week. Just as I'm not a party girl, neither am I a gambler. I've only been to a real casino once in my life, and I refused to gamble a cent. It wasn't necessarily on moral grounds but on the grounds of I hate to flush money down the toilet. (And speaking toilets, I think Luke just wet himself. I'll be back.........Yay! False alarm.) However, I have gambled three times this week. Like I said, I've been to the pediatrician's office.

There is little that can bring me to the highest possible level of stress like trying to decide whether or not to take my kid to the doctor. You'd think the fate of every human on earth lay in the balance the way I stress over this decision. Well, thirty dollars and at least two and a half hours of my life are on the line, so that's pretty much the same thing. Seriously, a call to the doctor, and certainly a trip to the office, is the best cure for anything that ails my children. I kid you not. Yesterday morning, Sam wheezed for hours and periodically attempted to cough up one of his sweet little lungs. Made an appointment and voila, he is healed. Today: Repeat.

I call and make another appointment this morning since, when I spoke to a nurse yesterday, it seemed of the utmost importance that I bring my fat four-month-old in asap since he was wheezing. So, I called back when the wheezing returned and got a morning appointment, hoping he'd still be sounding horrible when I got there. Then, as any good mom would, I proceeded to pray that my kid would sound like he was at death's door just until the doctor could see him.

Ya'll, I am not exaggerating. We got to the office, wheezing, got seen by a nurse almost immediately, still wheezing (though his oxygen was good), and even got fast-tracked to the back. Then we got left in purgatory, I mean the trauma room, for a good 45 minutes...still wheezing. Then we get shown to a normal room (imagine very hungry, tired, bored three-year-old in tow)...still wheezing, and Sam is finally exhausted. He falls asleep in my arms and STOPS WHEEZING about 2.5 minutes before the doctor walks in. Do you know how frustrated I was? DO YOU? Why is it that the nurse gets you all worried and the wheezing persists just long enough to make you feel like the biggest fool on the planet and flush $30 of money you don't really have to waste down the toilet? I have no words left in me to express my feelings on this matter. And now I have spent more of my day writing about it so that the frustration doesn't stay bottled up in me until I erupt!

I'm not sure what eternal purpose my day has served up to this point. With all these doctor's office visits, God is either preparing me to endure being imprisoned in China...or telling me if I can't handle three doctor's visits in a week, there is no way I could handle being imprisoned in China. Either way, not good.

My prayer is to not set foot in that office again for at least a month. And, to quote the puritan again...

I ask great things of a great God.


  1. I don't think you're the devil! :)

  2. Well, I know you in real life and know you are not the devil. And honey, I know all about going to the doctor and the child suddenly getting better. Sometimes I wish I could make a video of them at home and take a picture of the thermometer at 102. Cuase when I get to the doctor it will be 98.6. Happens all the time. I can't tell you how much money I have wasted going to the doctor when nothing was wrong, or it was something that they would get over by themselves in two days. But I guess it makes up for all the times I didn't take them and it was something horrible that I should have taken them in for two days ago.


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