We found out the other day, we are no longer the boomer
generation although we are just at the end of that by birth year. They now call
us the sandwich generation because we are in between caring for aging parents
(our older children) and caring for our children. In our case we are a club triple-decker sandwich as the third layer includes 3 furry children (two cats and a
dog).
I tell you that because this morning was complicated
by two of those layers. My cell made noise at 4am this morning with not one but
7 messages. That total includes a reply or two on my part. There was an eighth
message that had come earlier. I slept through that one. These from the middle
child of the middle layer of children. The difficulty compounded when two of
the furry children, the felines, thought it was time to get up and play. This
play upsets the third furry child (canine) who likes to sleep when it is dark.
By the way so do I, like to sleep that is at 4am. The alarm goes off at 5:30am
for the adults. Back to the middle child (human) who has a very big heart for
hurting people. That was the gist of the text conversation. It just seems to
happen in the wee hours of the morning.
The alarm goes off at 5:25am and I lay still for a
few cycles of the snooze until all the furry children are up and ready for me
to be up too. Got to go outside to smell all of the smells (canine beagle) you
know. At 6 am I realize middle child (human) is not in the house so out goes a
text asking the same “where are you?” We go outside on our walk as normal, come
back in and perform our morning routine still asking questions about the wee
hours and the middle child but on with the routine.
My routine after feeding the canine furry child is
to sit down, read a devotion book and or scripture and then pray. This morning
with all that had happened I decided to forgo reading a lot and just pray. So
I kneel at my chair, lights off, Barbara already gone, still house and begin to
pray when the dog begins to back at an as of yet undiscovered noise. Not once
but several times alerting me to an unidentified strange noise (USN). In her
defense it was probably the two other furry children messing around kitty parkour
style that bothers the dog a lot. That is another reason we call them the furry
children. Did I tell you I was trying to pray? So, the dog finally stops
barking now, back to praying when another four text messages chime in. By that
time there is not time or inclination to focus on God. Got to get dressed and
eat a bit before going out the door.
I will guess you have had more than one day start
like this? Am I right? So, how do we deal? Get angry? Fuss? Fume? Act out? A
dear friend says continually, “God is in control.” How can he be in the chaos of
this morning and others just like it? That can be because…well…He is! That doesn’t
mean I understand it or get it. It’s not really for me to get. I have to show
you what I read earlier. Psalm 8 from The Message
1God, brilliant Lord, yours is a household
name.
2 Nursing infants gurgle choruses about
you; toddlers shout the songs That drown out enemy talk, and silence
atheist babble.
3-4 I
look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade
sky-jewelry, Moon and stars mounted in their settings. Then I look at my
micro-self and wonder, Why do you bother with us? Why take a second look our
way?
5-8 Yet we’ve so narrowly missed being gods,
bright with Eden’s dawn light. You put us in charge of your handcrafted world, repeated
to us your Genesis-charge, Made us lords of sheep and cattle, even animals out
in the wild, Birds flying and fish swimming, whales singing in the ocean deeps.
9 God, brilliant Lord, your name echoes
around the world
I can’t lose for winning, neither can You!
In His Service and Yours,
BroG
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