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Some days you never forget. The date is etched in your heart and mind long after it has passed. The memories attached are sometimes sweet, sometimes not. Yeah, I have a catalog of those kinds of dates. It's good to remember. I've found over time, as God works things out in me, those dates that represented pain come to mean something more than that. He does turn mourning to joy, after all. Yesterday, I added a new date to my catalog.
Julia, my four-year-old, was playing in her room. I was using the restroom, her big sister was in the shower, her big brother visiting a friend, and her dad was working at his desk. I heard her running down the hallway, and before I knew it, the bathroom door flew open. She was standing there, tears streaming down her face, looking utterly terrified. “I swallowed a penny,” she stammered and then she started getting sick. She turned around and ran offto find her Dad. Besides being indisposed, I must have looked a bit afraid. I gathered myself and headed down to find her. I’m not going to tell you that I wasn’t a bit of a mess. The tears filled my eyes and about the same time, my stomach started doing somersaults. I couldn’t find my words, but managed to squeak out a one-word plea toward heaven. My mind has a nasty habit of immediately taking me to the worst-case scenario when something like this happens.
I made it downstairs and saw my little one standing on a towel, bent over, heaving and vomiting. Here dad was with her. I turned right back around, more tears, and lost my breakfast in the stairway. On my hands and knees, I had to remind myself to keep it together. The conversation in my head went something like this: Come on, Valerie. Don't you know who you belong to. Stop it. Ask for His help. I managed to squeak out another prayer. “God, please help her.”
About that time, I heard Julia. “There it is, I got it out.” She was pointing at a quarter lying in the mess on the towel. A quarter. That’s quite a bit bigger than a penny. I found a seat on the steps and she hopped into my lap. We were both covered in stuff I’d rather not discuss. Thank. You. God. I said it over and over again.
This morning, Julia climbed up beside me in bed and we had a chat. She was feeling fine; she explained that her throat wasn’t hurting today. I asked her if she understood that God helped her when she swallowed that quarter. She shook her head and told me, “I was talking to Him in my head. I couldn’t talk out loud because I was throwing up.” I reminded her that we needed to thank God for keeping her safe and helping her.
A few minutes later she was chatting with her Dad. She was holding up a quarter. She thought it was THE quarter. (I don’t know how in the world she had another quarter.) “Daddy, this is the quarter. I swallowed it and God reached down and pulled it out of my tummy.” “I was asking Him in my head, and He did.”
Yes. He absolutely did.
STOP.
