That Time Team Davis Fell Apart

As Justin and I stand on the stage of an empty sanctuary practicing the worship set for the morning I glance at the pews.  I see 4 awesome kids huddled together, sitting quietly and calmly.  I glance down the aisle and see 3 other kids – one sitting inside a hoodie (like it’s a sled) with his 2 siblings using the sleeves to pull him full speed down the aisle as they laugh uncontrollably through squeals of delight.  The 2^nd set of kids are my kids.  My 3 bundles of pure energy. I look at the differences in these two sets of children as a direct reflection of my parenting and translated it to a failure in parenting.  Why can’t my kids just sit still and keep quiet?

I had given up on trying to force it.  It always ended in a crying mess on both sides.  They do sometimes manage to do the “quiet” thing, but more often they are balls of chaos. Well... what I considered chaos. 

However, over the last year I’ve realized more and more they are just “living life”.  This revelation was inspired by our Children’s Director at Church (the amazing Sara Hughes).  She lives her life AND more importantly (to me at least) she helps my kids do the same.  She encourages them to be creative in their learning with plays they create to demonstrate the lessons they learn.  She has parties filled with food and confetti cannons.  She finds reasons to celebrate life and the craziness of what life can throw at you.  She meets them where they are just like Paul explains in 1 Corinthians Chapter 9.

I admire Sara and her ability to do this.  I am very much NOT that person. I’m an over-planner.  I need to think 10 steps ahead of my next 50 steps.  I over-organize things in order to feel some sense of control.  And sometimes, God likes to remind me what little control I have.

Then comes the real reason for this blog…I’m talking about that week(ish) in December…that week where God was like, “Oh, so you think you have everything under control? You think you have ANY say on what will happen tomorrow?” ::insert Godly giggle…well probably bellowing laughter…I assume God doesn’t giggle::

On Saturday morning Elijah comes into my room and says his tummy itches. He lifts his shirt to reveal a small patch of tiny red dots.  It looks like a mild skin irritation, so I tell him to take a shower to get clean and I’ll put some cream on it to help with the itch.  Problem solved.  Then that evening he complains again and reveals that small spot has spread rapidly up and around his side and back so to Urgent Care we go.  A 3 hour wait and we find out he has shingles. Not the worst case scenario so we move on with life.

Shingles.

Fast forward 4 days.  That amazing Sara lady I mentioned earlier walks into our Youth Group (where Justin and I are) and tells me Taylor was hurt and, in a VERY Taylor fashion, is letting the whole world know that her life was ending.  I walk down to get her and assume her tears are her typical over-exaggeration, but after a few minutes I realize she may actually be hurt.  So, another ride to Urgent Care (shout out to Tommy here for being willing to get the rest of my family home that night).  And we shortly find out her hand is broken AND it’s her dominant hand.

Shingles. Broken Hand.

Fast forward 5 days.  Jordan is outside happily enjoying the warm evening (and yes it was December and like 70 degrees outside at 5pm).  I’m inside cooking dinner with the other two and Justin is out studying (or maybe writing a paper) for finals.  I hear Jordan walking up the stairs crying.  I hear her open our storage room door and put away her pogo stick.  I hear her open the front door and I walk into the living room to see her clutching her chin with blood oozing from her fingers.  I calmly (calm on the outside, but inside hyperventilating) walked her to the sink to rinse off and quickly realized that the massive gash in her chin was in need of more than a bandaid.  So, I call Justin and tell him to hurry home, now! And tell Taylor she is in charge for 10 minutes until dad gets home.  Now I’m stressing about the amount of blood leaving one child’s face and the fact that Taylor was about to ‘babysit’ her brother for the first time.  I was almost certain that in those 10 minutes Justin would come home to the house on fire.  And so I sit, in Urgent Care once again.  Jordan needs 10 stiches.  She takes it like a champ…I almost pass out twice.

Shingles. Broken Hand. Stiches.

9 days later Justin gets a cell tumor removed from his hand (his dominant hand and more importantly his strumming hand) 4 days before our Christmas Eve services at church.  The tumor removal was more invasive than they anticipated so even now (over a month later) it is still bothers him sometimes.

Shingles. Broken Hand. Stiches. Hand Surgery.

Add to that I was 8 months pregnant and due “any day”.

Now, as Justin can attest, any one of these things would typically send me into stress overload.  Unplanned events creeping in and causing my perfectly organized schedule to become a mess.  But for some reason (probably for only the 5^th time in my life) shrugged it off and thought, “Why not? What’s next?”  At some point I just decided to giggle/laugh right along with God as I realized I have absolutely no control.  Silly me for thinking otherwise. And here we are a month later back to our chaotic, crazy, normal.