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Rage Against the Machine

September 23, 2009

As I sat awake at 2:00 am this morning, I had the best picture of what God must see in us.

Brynna is teething and has an ear infection. I learned that at the doctor today. Last night it just felt like she was playing a cruel joke on me by waking up screamng everytime I had the nerve to fall asleep. At one point, I was sitting in the chair in her room, rocking her in the dark, watching her fight.

Now, I must digress to explain one thing. My child doesn’t look much like me. She has her father’s face, his build and his tendency to be hot when I’m wrapped in a blanket. The one thing she most certainly got from me, though, is a stubborness rivaled by few. She doesn’t need a reason to fight. She just has an innate desire to make her point known.

Last night, Brynna wanted everyone in our zip code and three others to know she didn’t feel well. As I held her, trying to comfort her hurt, she flailed her arms, yelled for all to hear and at one point, just sat straight up and glared down the invisible thing causing her pain. She worked with all her little might until she literally couldn’t fight anymore. And at that point, she leaned into my chest and rested. She was so tired from her struggle to do it herself, that she finally let me do what I’d been waiting and wanting to do for hours – comfort her.

How many times have I known enough to ask God for help, climbed up on His lap and then sat there fighting with all my own might against whatever was in my way. And only when I’d exhausted myself did I let Him comfort me – what He’d been waiting and wanting to do for hours…or months…or years…

After holding Brynna for a few minutes, she relaxed a bit further and the smallest laugh escaped her. It was as if her little body finally relaxed enough to know the real peace of just letting her mama make it feel better. Such joy. Pure peace.

I couldn’t take away her hurt. (I pray the amoxicillin can because I need some rest!) I couldn’t make the infection go away or the teeth magically cut through the skin. Those things are part of what she needs to grow. They are part of life and her journey. And God can’t always take away what I’m raging against. It’s part of my journey. It’s what makes me stronger, braver, more courageous or gracious. But what I could do is hold her. I could rock her and let her know that even when she doesn’t feel good, I’ll comfort her. Even when she hurts, I will be with her.

So as I sat awake at 2:00 am this morning, I rocked my daughter, leaned my head on my Father’s chest and rested. And a little laugh escaped because even in the midst of tired and hurt, He gave me Peace.

I’m so blessed I’m His daughter…and a mom.

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