My Saturday had already been going poorly of when my phone rang. It was our four-year-old son's neurologist. She had reviewed some videos we had taken of Connor's recent seizures, and she was fairly sure that the 20-30 seizures we saw daily were a different type than what he was already being medicated for. To be sure, however, she would need to capture them on an EEG. "Would you be able to come this Monday for a 24 hour stay?" she asked.
I held it together through the call, jotting down notes of what our stay would be like, even though I already knew. Because we had done this same thing in January. We were supposed to be done with this by now, I thought. I thought we were done.
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| Connor enjoying a visit from his sister, McKenna, as he undergoes an extended EEG back in January |
Later I would feel thankful that Connor's neurologist is the type who will pick up the phone and call. That she requested the videos in the first place. That this is epilepsy and not something terminal. But right then I didn't feel at all grateful. I felt scared, overwhelmed, and frustrated.
While tough or frustrating times often draw me closer to God, I wasn't thinking about spiritual things as I hung up the phone. Instead, I was thinking that my week had been hijacked. That I had a long to-do list, and I had better power through it. First on the list was a run over to Target to pick up a few random things we needed.
What a funny place to bump into God.
I arrived about 4:45, and I roamed the aisles because I needed items from all over the store. As I hunted for 9 volt batteries, the thought came out of nowhere: It's Saturday. The pharmacy closes at 5 on Saturday.
And it was 4:57.
I was on the other side of the store, and I managed to arrive just as the pharmacist was closing things down. She gave me my prescription with a smile and a, "Just in time!" The door rolled shut behind me as I walked away, marveling at God's attention to detail.
There was no reason why, as I debated Duracel or Energizer, it would have occurred to me "just in time" that I needed to get to the pharmacy counter before they closed. It felt so clear that God had shown up, had spared me a frustration.
You know every little thing, I thought as I finished up my shopping. But it didn't feel scary, it was comforting.
Ten or so minutes later I walked out of Target. The sky was ablaze with a sunset that sucked my breath away. Despite the chill in the air, the list waiting for me at home, I stood there and marveled. The moment felt reverent.
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| The camera never does His art justice, but I snapped a picture as a reminder of the lesson. |
