What a Band Aid Can't Fix
The crazy hour was at hand.
You know.
The hour just before dinner when chaos is running rampant and life is fraying at the edges, loud and messy.
Dropping one off at soccer practice, the van loaded full, we headed home to frantically press into dinner. The doorbell never stops ringing.
Running feet, door slamming, shouts of frenzied play in those last few minutes before we needed to be all piled back in the car to pick up Caleb from soccer. The baby wakes up and crying, and ground beef burning, and back into the car again...
Just as we are all spilling into the car, pushed and flustered, it happens.
A little spill off the scooter on concrete rips two tiny holes in the five year old 's toe.
I survey the damage. Nothing too serious, just two dots of red on the bitty fourth toe.
It's not even bleeding.
I give him a hug and send him on to his seat in the back.
Pulling out of the driveway I hear it, "Mom, I need a band aid. I can't make it without a band aid."
A band aid?
We're late (I think) and flurried and hot and, "Honey you're OK, it doesn't need a band aid."
We're already out of the neighborhood.
Then starts the crying. He needs a band aid. In fact he can't live without one. Don't I know this?
He is actually going to die. Hysteria sets in.
If a band aid doesn't come soon, he is certain the end is near.
We arrive at soccer practice, they're scrimmaging. It's going to go long.
Meanwhile, the crying and now screaming for band aid is in minute 25.
We all sit.
There is nothing to do but sit and listen to the plea for a band aid.
I begin to slowly beat my head against the steering wheel.
I look up at the clouds, piles of silver and white, a thunderhead, beauty.
And I pray, What am I to do with this? Band aid? What? Where is the grace in this?
And then I hear it, "If I only had a band aid, everything would be better!"
"Honey, even if you had a band aid it would still hurt. The band aid would cover it up, but the holes would still be there."
And then I know.
This isn't about his band aid. It's about mine.
How many times lately have I said to God, "If I only had a band aid, it would all be better!"
Except my band aid isn't for holes in a toe.
It's for holes in a soul.
And I think, if I only had.... it would fix it all.
If only I had a different house,
a better neighborhood,
less stress,
more time,
kids that listened,
a life that wasn't so....
full of holes.
But the band aids, they don't fix the holes.
They may cover them up for a while, but the holes remain.
No, a wound needs a Healer.
And there is only one Healer that can mend holes in a soul.
And so I pray. Pray for healing in soul-holes, healing that comes from a cross, bloodied.
Pray for Holy Blood to fill in all these holes and remember.
To trust, to thank, to praise, even in these moments.
Pray for grace to see and remember that all this, all this, wounded mess of a life, is grace.
Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Phillipians 3:8
You know.
The hour just before dinner when chaos is running rampant and life is fraying at the edges, loud and messy.
Dropping one off at soccer practice, the van loaded full, we headed home to frantically press into dinner. The doorbell never stops ringing.
Running feet, door slamming, shouts of frenzied play in those last few minutes before we needed to be all piled back in the car to pick up Caleb from soccer. The baby wakes up and crying, and ground beef burning, and back into the car again...
Just as we are all spilling into the car, pushed and flustered, it happens.
A little spill off the scooter on concrete rips two tiny holes in the five year old 's toe.
I survey the damage. Nothing too serious, just two dots of red on the bitty fourth toe.
It's not even bleeding.
I give him a hug and send him on to his seat in the back.
Pulling out of the driveway I hear it, "Mom, I need a band aid. I can't make it without a band aid."
A band aid?
We're late (I think) and flurried and hot and, "Honey you're OK, it doesn't need a band aid."
We're already out of the neighborhood.
Then starts the crying. He needs a band aid. In fact he can't live without one. Don't I know this?
He is actually going to die. Hysteria sets in.
If a band aid doesn't come soon, he is certain the end is near.
We arrive at soccer practice, they're scrimmaging. It's going to go long.
Meanwhile, the crying and now screaming for band aid is in minute 25.
We all sit.
There is nothing to do but sit and listen to the plea for a band aid.
I begin to slowly beat my head against the steering wheel.
I look up at the clouds, piles of silver and white, a thunderhead, beauty.
And I pray, What am I to do with this? Band aid? What? Where is the grace in this?
And then I hear it, "If I only had a band aid, everything would be better!"
"Honey, even if you had a band aid it would still hurt. The band aid would cover it up, but the holes would still be there."
And then I know.
This isn't about his band aid. It's about mine.
How many times lately have I said to God, "If I only had a band aid, it would all be better!"
Except my band aid isn't for holes in a toe.
It's for holes in a soul.
And I think, if I only had.... it would fix it all.
If only I had a different house,
a better neighborhood,
less stress,
more time,
kids that listened,
a life that wasn't so....
full of holes.
But the band aids, they don't fix the holes.
They may cover them up for a while, but the holes remain.
No, a wound needs a Healer.
And there is only one Healer that can mend holes in a soul.
And so I pray. Pray for healing in soul-holes, healing that comes from a cross, bloodied.
Pray for Holy Blood to fill in all these holes and remember.
To trust, to thank, to praise, even in these moments.
Pray for grace to see and remember that all this, all this, wounded mess of a life, is grace.
Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Phillipians 3:8
Comments
Post a Comment