Awake

Toby's been going through another overly-attached-to-Mommy phase. He's been absolutely flipping-out when I leave him with Matt to run out to the store, and I honestly haven't a clue why. Last night as I tucked him in bed he asked me, "When I sleep, what will you be doing, Mommy?"

"I'm not going shopping, Toby," I reassured him. "I'm going to give Daddy a haircut and then go to bed. I will be right here."

"No!" Toby cried, "Don't sleep. I don't want you to sleep, Mommy."

And while I felt like saying something like, "I can tell--that's been abundantly clear since the day you were born," last night I really felt his three-year-old, irrational sadness and decided to assure him that it is in his best interest for me to sleep and he will be just fine.

While I shake my head at Toby, I know, even in my old age, I still behave that way with God--secure and confident when he's snuggled up beside me, but questioning if he's still taking care of me when it feels dark and silent. But while I imagine he might be tempted to roll his eyes at me ("How many times do we have to go through this, Kathy?"), instead, it seems he always takes the time to reassure me that he's not far away.

This week, after another week of despondency over my life-sentence to the kitchen, God has sent me, through his hands and feet here on this earth: a home-cooked meal from a friend whose children also have special diets, an anonymous box of grocery goodies dropped for us at our church, and a brand-new thirteen-cubic-foot chest freezer so that I can stock-up on sale items and bake ahead to save for later.

Inside the box of groceries along with the Cinnamon Chex and clementines and gluten-free cookies was a jar of molasses--an unusual item to include in a box of groceries for sure, but oddly enough, it was the only item that was on my shopping list at the time.

Yesterday I was on top of things: I had warm bread just finishing up in the bread maker when I woke up so that I could pack sandwiches for the kids to eat after art class. I spent the afternoon making a double batch of italian soup--one for the crockpot and one for my new freezer--and came home from ballet class to hot soup and another fresh loaf of bread in my bread maker. And I felt genuinely thankful for God's provision to me.

Last night the phone rang while I was changing Elijah's messy bottom. I snatched it up and pinned it to my shoulder while I pinned Elijah to the floor. I was talking to Elijah, and Toby, and the caller all at the same time so it took awhile for the purpose of the call to register. I needed to pick out my favorite color for my new Kitchenaid Pro 600 stand mixer. Wow.

Really today I just feel very humbled, very grateful to the generous people who have given much--this isn't a cheap model--to buy this for me. I am still digesting their generosity, and God's abundant provision. And I'm excited like a little kid for Christmas to get my new mixer and to be able to make big huge batches of cookies and pizza dough and other goodies (and then store the extra in my new freezer) without breaking my spoons, straining my wrists, or burning out the motors on my hand mixers anymore.

Tonight, if Toby pleads for me not to sleep, I think I know what to tell him, "Little Toby, even when you can't see me, hear me, or feel me, even when you're sure I'm not paying any attention to you at all, I'm always taking care of you. Always."

"I lift up my eyes to the hills--
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth...
He who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep."

-Psalm 121:1-4