when momma brain takes over
Have you ever prepared for a big move - one of those “pack up the entire house” moves? There are very few moments in life that compare to the chaos that ensues during a move. We swear that our marriages can withstand anything and then in that chaos we have a fleeting moment of doubt as we argue over which box has the phone chargers and who should have done better packing and labeling boxes. As the dust settles we dig out from under a pile of boxes and slowly get back into our routine and loving our spouse a little better.
It’s a little touch and go. You know what makes a move even harder? The one, two, three or four children in the mix. They help us. Distract us. And even sometimes prevent us from packing. That’s what happened to me that last time we moved.
It was Spring of 2007 and the events of the day are permanently etched in my mind. We were moving in with Grandma. That meant spending everyday with her to sort through sixty years of material goods and memories to make room for us to move in. I’ll save the stories of what that looks like for another day, but on this particular day, we had just taken a break to sit on the front porch with Grandma.
Grandma Great And The Girls
Sounds picture perfect, doesn’t it? Well, it wasn’t!
The kids weren’t sitting with us. They were jumping off the porch - over and over again. Flying through 3 feet of air and landing perfectly on the ground is fabulous! Until it isn’t. My youngest, Tziporah, at age 4, took her final jump and wiped out. She got up crying uncontrollably and we went to the kitchen to get ice. No big deal. I thought she had hit her head on the ground until I reached into her hair and came out with fingers full of blood.
Full on Momma panic, right there. What happened in that moment? I was anxious and worried. I checked Tziorah’s eyes for a concussion even though I had no idea what I was trying to see. I panicked even more. Grandma was on the porch and didn’t know what happened. I couldn’t tell her. In my mind, Grandma was 91 and couldn’t handle it.
Tziporah had slammed her head into a lawn roller that was beneath the porch. Have you ever seen one of these? They are often rusty, huge metal wheels and I guess the best place for Grandma to store it was under the porch.
Flurie Farm Lawn Roller
Then, I did what any rational mom would do in my situation. Can you hear the sarcasm in that statement? I pushed the ice onto Tziporah’s head, hurried to the porch, collected the other kids, and told Grandma that we were going home for Tziporah to settle down. Off we went less than a ½ mile down the road to our house as I was quickly and emotionally trying to make a plan.
My son, Eli, being his stoic 9 year-old self jumped in to ask what he could do. Tziporah’s 7 year-old empathetic sister, Jael, was weeping, wailing, and panicking. There are very few moments in my life when I don’t know what to do. This was one of them.
I knew our neighbors who were like grandparents to our kids could help me. We jumped in the car with Eli holding Tziporah’s bleeding head shut and I pulled to the end of the driveway. But now I had a bigger problem. I had to pass Grandma’s house to get there and I knew she would be sitting on the porch watching. How could I get by and not be seen?
All of a sudden, crazy Momma brain kicked in! I decided that if I drove as fast as I could she wouldn’t see me going by. I floored it past Grandma’s house and landed at our neighbors with the accelerator to the ground. They welcomed Tziporah’s traumatized sister while I drove off to the doctor with Eli holding his broken sister’s head in the back seat.
I was still very worried about my little girl, a little less worried about what Grandma would say and just plain hoping that I wouldn’t get pulled over for speeding.
But worry is not something that we are supposed to do.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? - Matthew 6: 25-27 NIV
I love Jesus’ teachings in Matthew, but it’s hard to live by this verse isn’t it?
In the midst of this chaos, my hurt little girl, helping Grandma, and moving my family, Jesus was calling me to remember that I shouldn’t worry. Instead I needed to rely on God and trust Him. I didn’t want to. But I had to. So, I tried.
With panic and worry trying to keep me frantic. I prayed in that car that my little girl would be ok.
That day, I saw Jesus in Tziporah’s doctor. He was calm and reassuring. I just had to trust him. There was a slight concussion. He promised it was nothing to worry about and he wanted to sew her head back together. I finally had the hope I needed. My little girl would be healed.
And that’s the kind of hope we can find when we search our family story. We get the chance to see how trusting in God and using hope purposefully removes worry. Let’s focus on that each day. And retell those stories of hope to our children so they understand who God is and what he has done for our families.
Searching for wisdom and asking for grace,
Jody