Skip to main content

Refuge and Strength

"For the Lord has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline."
2 Timothy 1:7

We were very excited last night, thinking we were going to get to run in the rain, but no such luck. It rained for maybe half of a lap and that was all! But, a tropical storm by the name of Andrea is headed this direction. I am officially registered for a 5k this weekend and although I think it would be hard to run in serious rain, I also think it could be quite fun! How many people can say they ran their first race in a tropical storm? :)

Yesterday was somewhat of a traumatic day for my son and I. My four year old suffers from food allergies and for the first time in his life, I had to take him to the emergency room because of a peanut reaction. I think I was in a state of shock for most of the day, but by bed time I was a nervous wreck. I was consumed by fear and guilt. For as long as I've known about his allergies, I've taken every precaution to protect him. My son knows about his allergies and is so good at being careful, even at such a young age. But, all it took was one small change in our normal routine to show, yet again, how serious his allergies can be.

We spent our morning at the splash pad and, like I usually do for trips to the water or beach, I packed he and I both sandwiches. Because of the heat, I pack us peanut butter sandwiches. My sandwich is always in a separate, air-tight container and with the crust. Jack's sandwich is made from soy butter and is always cut into the shapes of animals and placed inside a sandwich shaped container. Running behind yesterday, I didn't cut his sandwich into animal shapes. 

As we sat at the picnic table eating, I looked to my right and noticed an extra bite out of my sandwich. Before my son even had the chance to swallow, I got it out of his mouth. But just a few seconds later, he grabbed his throat and started to cry and I realized my worst nightmare: I didn't have the epi-pen. I handed my daughter to a friend, got Jack in the car as fast as I could, and drove him to the emergency room. He was able to talk to me the entire way, which assured me that though his throat was hurting, it was not swelling shut. His cheeks were puffy and he continued to cry, but thank the Lord, he could breathe!

The people at the ER were quick to get us back and make sure his throat wasn't closing. Not long after we arrived, my son threw up what little peanut butter he had swallowed and was given Benadryl and a steroid. His cheeks went back to normal and he assured me that his throat was feeling better. After 30 minutes of observation, we were allowed to go home. But I left the hospital with a heavy heart. 

How could I not cut his sandwich like I always do? I'm the most careful and cautious person in the world when it comes to his allergies, and with one small mistake, we ended up at the hospital. I refused to let him out of my sight all afternoon, even as he slept on the couch. I felt so guilty for the fear he'd experienced and I was still full of anxiety myself. I would still be in that state of mind today if the Lord hadn't quickly reminded me of 2 Timothy 1:7.

"For the Lord has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline."

The Lord does not want me to live in fear, even when it comes to my son's food allergies. The Lord was there with us every step of the way yesterday. He  nudged me to turn around at the right moment and notice that bite in my sandwich. He gave me the strength and power to react quickly and get it out of my son's mouth. He protected my son and kept him from having a worse reaction, and most of all, He allowed this to happen when we were just two minutes from an emergency room. Instead of burdening myself with fear and guilt, I need to thank the Lord for the hedge of protection He placed around my son yesterday. I need to thank the Lord for pressing upon my heart the importance of being prepared and knowing what to do in this type of situation.

I just really want to thank You Lord.

"God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble."
Psalm 46:1


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Even When I Run Away ...

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18 It's been over a year since I wrote in this blog. The past year has brought many life changes for our family. My husband returned from deployment and we packed up and moved across the country. I've had to adjust to a new home, a new school for my son, a new church, and new friends ... New everything. I haven't written in this particular blog because it's always been my place to share about my running journey and how my relationship with God has matured through that quiet time with Him. But over the last year or so, I haven't really been running.  And I've felt further from God than I've felt in a really long time.  At the beginning of 2017, I slowly began running again. A friend and I signed up for a half marathon and despite the sometimes awful weather here, I haven't missed a training run yet. I began to feel like I was fin
12 comments
Read more

Letter from a Recovering Racist

It all started with books. As soon as I learned to read, my world began to change. When I was born, my world was small. I grew up in the Deep South. Fields for miles. Mosquitoes big enough to drain you dry. I lived in the middle of nowhere. Everyone around me looked just like me . Until I started kindergarten. As I grew older, I learned beside people who didn't look like me. But as time went on, the lines were drawn in the sand. We were "us" and they were "them." The lines were drawn with words, attitudes, and beliefs. Were there big explosions of speech and blatant actions? Yes. But most were whispers. It's easy to deny a whisper. A look. A thought. An idea. But many whispers together make a lot of noise. And the sound was deafening. The older I grew, the more books I read. Although I interacted daily with people not like me, I never listened to their voices. Not in person. But I read. I read and I read and I read. I read boo
1 comment
Read more

New

I was 15 years old the first time he told me no one would ever love me. With those words, my life changed. I saw myself as unlovable. I was worthless. I was unwanted. I was broken. I was dirty. Before that day, I loved myself well and I felt like I loved others well. Not to "toot my own horn," but I just had a naturally generous spirit. That still lingers in my love language today. Giving is how I both show and feel love. But something shifted in that moment.  The word love became a weapon. It became a tool to manipulate.  And it broke my heart. Suddenly, I found myself trying to earn it. No one could ever love me just for being me. They could only love what I could give or do for them. This always played itself out in one of two ways: I'd either give and give and give until I had nothing left and I was left feeling unloved and worthless ... or I would refuse to give anything at all and I was still left feeling unloved and worthle
Post a Comment
Read more