So Impressionable

Tonight was another mutual night. I was in charge of the activity. It was a simple one and not too difficult to pull together last minute. Addie has been struggling with her afternoon naps - crying through most of them so the time I have to shower, get dinner planned and prepared has been cut short and filled with a crying baby. I've been making an effort to cook with what we have in the freezer and pantry which means a lot of cooking from scratch which means preparation and planning. Allen has been working late every day - today being no exception. I needed to leave early to make copies and get supplies for this evening. Dinner was done just in time for Allen to run in the door and for me to run out the door. Another night on an empty stomach. Another re-heated meal at 10 p.m. I watched my family sit down and heard Lexi offering the prayer as I hurried to the car. I felt rushed, unappreciated, resentful, tired, and fed up. I've been in YW for 7 years. I've never had a Wednesday night at home.

I quickly ran my errands and headed to the church - my home away from home. Anyone who drives with me knows that I'm not a "take it easy" type of pilot. I'm obviously on the road for a reason. I don't dilly dally. I drive above the speed limit. I squeeze out the most time I can to get across intersections before that yellow light quickly changes to dreaded red. People who drive below the speed limit, text or talk while they swerve between lanes and who can't drive and talk to their passengers at the same time irritate me beyond measure. So, as I pulled up to the railroad tracks, I saw that I could probably squeeze across them and nose up behind the grandma at the intersection. She happened to be every part the stereotype: driving a land-yacht and a good car length's distance from the line indicating the beginning of the intersection. As most know, I drive my own good sized mama mobile. But, I've squeezed in behind bigger cars than hers and figured getting a few extra feet would get me to my destination a lot faster.

It would also put my rear end really, really close to the train tracks. As I pulled across the tracks to nose up behind the car in front of me, I heard, very quietly, in my mind, almost like my own thought: "You better not try this. You won't fit." For some reason, I listened. I put the truck in reverse, checked to make sure no one was behind me and started to back up. As I did this, I looked up and to my right, down the tracks. Lights were flashing as the local rapid transit train was barreling down towards us. Just then, as I sat straddling the tracks, the lights began to flash and the barriers began to drop.

How grateful I was that I listened. It's not that often that the results of our actions are so quickly realized. If I had chosen to ignore this divine guidance, imagine the repercussions of such a prideful decision. Even though I would have been well across the tracks, being "nicked" on the rear end by a train going 70 mph could have easily cost me.
****************************************************

Not long ago, I was with Lexi at the local park. It was still winter time; Addie was a few weeks old. We had family visiting and plenty of help with the baby so I took Lexi out for a little mommy and me time. As we got out of the truck, I heard: "Put her hat on. The wind may pick up." It was sunny and pretty warm. A breeze was just forming. But, I did it.

We played on the playground and ran on the grass. We went over to the softball and baseball fields. Lexi ran around the dugout and walked along the metal benches. She raced in and out of the dugout. As she was doing this, I had the thought: "Don't let her do that. She's going to slip and fall on the concrete." I argued. "Um, kids run around here all of the time with no problems. She'll be fine." The conversation continued:

Thought: go play elsewhere. She's going to slip.
Me: No. I'm not doing that.
Thought, for the third and final time: She's going to fall. Stop her!

Just then, Lexi rounded the corner at full speed. She slipped and dove head first into the corner of the metal bench. As she screamed in shock and pain, I cursed myself for being so stubborn. I grabbed her up and checked her forehead. She had a golf ball size welt forming. However, the skin had not broken. Because I put her hat on, even though it seemed ridiculous to do so, she had been spared the trip to the ER for stitches.

Why did I obey one command but not the other? I cannot give a logical explanation. Stubbornness and pride are the words that come to mind. How could I make that choice when the only person to pay would be Lexi? How hard would it have been to direct her to run 10 feet away on the grass? Why didn't I make that simple effort for my daughter? I was given divine help in order to spare her the pain of that accident, and I, as her steward and failed her. I felt terrible. I learned a valuable lesson that day. The cock had crowed thrice and I was too lazy, prideful, whatever to act. Now, when I have those feelings, thoughts and impressions, I don't hesitate to obey on them. Even if I never know why, I know I've made the right choice by listening to the only source who could possibly love my own children more than I do. What an amazing gift. I'm so, so grateful for it in my life.