Parenting!

    When,  oh when, is parenting going to get easier?

                Although the invitation had been extended for a couple of weeks, my husband and I were only recently able to join his sister, Kim, at the beach. We thought our plan was perfect: drop Victoria off to join her classmates on a bus bound for the DC March for Life, then drive to Alabama.

                The day before her departure, Victoria suffered from a migraine headache triggered possibly by exhaustion, tension, or Physics. She saw a doctor, received the appropriate medication, and assured me that she was fine to travel.

                Two days later, in the middle of the American History museum, she called. As soon as I answered her call I heard sobs, followed by, “I’m so weak.”

                “Victoria, drink a real Coke. Nothing diet or caffeine-free. Sit down for 20 minutes , then see how you feel.”  I prayed with her, ended the call, and tried to control my mind. Thoughts of my child fainting in the middle of the First Ladies’ Inaugural Gowns, or passed out next to the Star Spangled Banner were stopping me from focusing on my next job: booking a flight to Washington. Well, that and pretending to be calm while shopping for golf clubs with my husband.

                About this time, I remembered something I had read in the devotional book, Streams in the Desert, Volume 2, “Quiet tension is not trust. It is compressed anxiety.” Despite my calm exterior, and a few purchases for my granddaughters, I was not quite flowing in the faith I profess. And that bothered me as much as my decision to let Victoria get on the bus. My prayers suddenly became twofold. I wanted Victoria to be able to enjoy the trip she had looked forward to for months, and I also asked for the faith to be able to handle these tiny turbulences of life with total trust. Slowly, a real faith-filled peace replaced my anxiety.

                Two hours and twelve minutes later, I finally received word from Victoria in a text message, “I’m fine now. “ And I was, too, thankfully, even before I read her text.

My future may hold many more urgent calls to my Father. Like Victoria’s call to me, they may begin with, “I’m so weak.”

I just wonder if God thinks of me and says, “When, oh when, is parenting her going to get easier?”