Today I am sitting on my bed with a big ice pack on my foot.
It’s not what I planned on doing today. But here we are.
How did this happen? Was I running a marathon? Or, carrying something heavy through the garage?
I was taking a shower.
I was simply taking a shower this morning, when a big bottle of shampoo fell directly onto my foot. (It hurt.) And there was an instant golf-ball-sized lump. What on earth?
So, I had to cancel all our plans today, and instead, I’ve been hobling around, chasing my 18-month-old son off the counters and out of the bathrooms. I only had to call Poison Control once, after he got the vanilla scented plug-in out of the wall and sucked on it. (But, they said he’d be fine! Thankfully.)
Overall, today has had a rather lousy vibe, as I’ve been moving through the house like an invalid. And feeling rather bummed out about my foot. And all the things I may not be able to do today and this week. And I was just wondering…
Do you ever feel like that? Like you have these ambitions and plans and then suddenly something…like a shampoo bottle knocks you out?
It kind of makes me laugh. (And cry, haha.)
But as I’ve been resting, elevating, and icing my foot, I’ve been thinking.
If God is sovereign over even a sparrow falling to the ground, then He must be sovereign over a shampoo bottle falling to the ground. And landing on my foot. And canceling all my plans. And stopping me from doing anything I had wanted to do today.
“Just rest here a while,” He says.
And the tears come.
“Are you not of more value than they [the birds]?
Oh you of little faith?”
Lately, our schedule has been jam-packed. All good things, but still crazy-busy, as summertime can be. I didn’t feel like I could take anything off the schedule. Until the shampoo bottle fell this morning. And I literally couldn’t do things I meant to do.
Sometimes, God slows you down. And when He does, I have to believe, He does it out of love. It feels like a curse, but actually, it’s a blessing.
Because deep inside of me, underneath the surface, there’s this undercurrent of noise. Constant noise, of voices chattering, with fears, opinions, self-conciousness, worry, and dread.
It’s so loud sometimes, I can’t hear my Father.
But today, after the shampoo bottle fell, I heard Him.
I was in my daughter Selah’s room, telling her what clothes to wear, and what toys to put away, when she came over to me and said, ever so gently, “Shhh, Mommy.” I paused, surprised by her interjection.
“I want to pray for you,” she said.
She came and hugged me as I sat on her bed. Her hobbling mama. Tears filled my eyes.
She tenderly placed one hand on my back.
“Jesus,” she whispered, “Please heal mommy’s foot.” And she prayed more things in her soft, five-year-old way. And then she finished.
“Thank you, Selah,” I whispered, and I meant it. I hugged her again.
And every once in a while your child comforts you. Instead of the other way around. And…
It’s moments like this where all those voices inside become quiet.
And He quiets me with His love.
And I hear my Father. I hear His love. He is here. Right here. Nothing is outside of His control. Nothing.
Not even a sparrow…and not even a shampoo bottle…falls to the ground without His permission.
And so, as I lay here, even as I lay here icing my swollen foot–
I am wounded, but blessed.
I am slowed down, but held.
And in the end,
what more could I really want?
He quiets me with His love.
And rejoices over me with singing.
Have you ever been slowed down by God? Has He ever taken your big plans–and broken them? I’d love to hear your story in the comment section. Or, has the bottle of shampoo ever fallen on your foot? I’d love to hear that, too. 😉