Option 1: Go home to pee and pull struggling child out of car, walk from the parking lot to my door on the far end and then repeat process? Please no!!!
Option 2: Continue on the grocery store at the mall. Park by the grocery store, but walk through the mall to the bathrooms with screaming, struggling child as I left my handy-dandy Ergo at home? Shoot me first, please!!!
Option 3: Drop in at my mother-in-love's for a short visit and a pee break. Perfect!
I called, she was there, over we went. Shamed, I didn't tell her that I needed to pee, just said we wanted to visit. Happily, my little monkey leapt from the van, eager to see his grandma. Shaking garden dirt from her boots, she grabbed the mail and welcomed us in. Then, she paused. Shuffling through her stack of mail, she found a Christmas card. No biggie, or it wouldn't have been, but this was addressed from her dear uncle who died almost two weeks ago. She stopped, turned, and then grabbed me in a bear hug as tears began to swell. I hugged back, understanding, marvelling at the grace and preparedness with which this beloved man approached death. Briefly, my other mother grieved, and then letting go, commented how glad she was that I was there.
I knew right then that this visit wasn't me being lazy or impatient or too scared of snooty receptionist. This was, without doubt, the hand of the Divine. I am awed, humbled, shocked by the orchestrations this great God will take to comfort His distressed child. He knew what she would need. He sent me without me even knowing to be His hands, His arms. My thoughts splinter and I wonder what opportunities I miss when I try to be strong instead of being me. I wonder if God loves me that much too? I wonder and wonder and ponder and hope to not soon forget the reality of being sent.
As is my Thursday custom, I join with Emily and the Imperfect family today.