Our grand-daughter Maddie has been sick this week. And it is killing me. She is normally high-octane and bubbly. Lately it's been the opposite.
On Thursday, I returned from my A.M. trips and offered to keep Maddie while Carole did some much needed shopping. Usually this would be time spent playing games with Maddie. Instead, she crawled up into my lap and mournfully repeated, "Momma, Momma." At that point, I wished I lived near Galilee in apostolic times so I could track down John, or Peter, or Jesus himself for a touch of a hand to instantly heal.
Of course I'm no different from any other grandparent or parent. But it's one of the few things in life that I let get me down. Whether it's Zach or Ethan in San Antonio or Maddie or Carole or one of my kids, I hate the feeling of helplessness when they hurt. I ramp up my prayers, but I know usually there will be waiting involved. It just sucks all the pleasure out of life.
I know Maddie will improve soon and be good as new in a few days. I know God takes care of us. But please, no more holding me tight and calling for Momma. I CAN'T TAKE IT!!
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