Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Traumatic Moments


Our peaceful summer morning was thrown into chaos at the discovery of one tiny little bug. Going about our usual routine, we were traumatized at the discovery of a tick on Josephine's head. Oh, the drama! As a child of such a sensitive nature, the fact that a tick was planted on her for an indefinite amount of time, biting and pooing, was just plain traumatic. As a mother, trying to be brave but totally freaked out, the fact that a bug was on my child and the idea that only I could remove it, and how I did so would determine if she got lyme disease or not, was just plain traumatic. To this day, I'm haunted by the frightening experience of having lice in my hair as a child. My poor mother had to cleanout, disinfect, and treat all five of us children plagued by those nasty things. It still gives me shivers.
A couple of weeks ago, Adela broke her arm and after two emergency room visits had it "fixed." This was traumatic, yet a rug burn on her other arm caused more tears and riots of emotion for an entire day. You would have thought I was recasting her arm, the way she was squalling about receiving a Barbie bandaid.
It's funny to think how our view of what is traumatic differs due to our life experiences. Had I not experienced bugs on my head, I probably wouldn't have hyperventilated in private after removing Jo's tick. If Josephine had not had a close encounter of the painful kind with an Arkansas cousin of said tick, she probably wouldn't have had such a weepy morning. Had Adela not experienced a broken limb, for which she barely whimpered, then she most likely wouldn't have screamed bloody murder over a tiny "owwy." Had Eben not experienced being set down (I know, I'm such a mean mommy), then he probably wouldn't cry hysterically when left in a room without a parental figure. And call 9-1-1 if Thess finds out her blanket is in the washing machine.

I've learned to seize these moments of terror as an opportunity to teach my kids to stop, drop, and pray. There is no comfort like going to our Lord, even over something as silly as tackling a tick. He provides what we need when we ask. All of us here caught in the traumatic moment of the morning were graciously given courage, peace, and a more relaxing day. There's nothing too small to bring to God.

3 comments:

  1. Those are indeed the moments!

    So, how did you go about the removal?

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  2. Oh, my! I remember once when Jenny got a bug in her eye and while trying to get it out, it went behind her eyeball. BOTH of us were crying (of course, John was gone!) and I called the pediatrician, sure I had ruined her eyesight FOREVER! The nurse calmly told me that it would probably work out the other corner -- and it did. Glad you were finally able to find peace and relaxation! I appreciate your writing so much and especially the applications you draw. Have you ever thought of writing a book of meditations for moms?

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  3. Yeah we have to do a daily tick check at pajama time. business as usual.

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