Holy Work

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“This is holy work,” I begrudgingly reminded myself a day after returning home from a much needed vacation; a week of relaxation, sun, and reconnecting with my husband, and here I was now, again, changing my 14 year old’s diaper, my Lucas boy with profound special needs who was currently on his third bout of diarrhea in a month; so many wipes, diapers, hand washes, and missed school days – #buttwiperforever.

Frustration and anxiety mounting with each smelly reminder – a list a million miles long zipping through my mind – a long list prior to vacation and now doubled after a break and a career pushing forward with each month – exciting developments on the horizon! God ordained news!  But this moment? This putrid, crappy moment? A moment I wouldn’t have ever dreamed about in 2004 with words like terminate and dismal prognosis ringing in my ears; this moment saturated in God’s plan?  “Yes” I sighed …

This moment, this mundane, overwhelming moment didn’t fall under anything exciting or glamorous. No ma’am, not up there with Lights! Camera! Action! Contracts! Or meetings with important people!

No. None of those high and mighty ideals or anything really that anyone in their right mind would strive to accomplish on a regular basis if given the choice.

A simple, humble, ordinary moment that fell completely under holy obedience – humility building holy – swallow your big, honkin ball of pride holy.

The Least of These Shall Inherit the Kingdom type of holy.

Dutifully performing – against every natural desire – what I was called to do. Raising my special boy who is still in diapers at fourteen years old, still requiring me for all of his basic needs, still dependent on me for everything – all of it, even the mundane smelliness, part of a grander plan, a holy plan, a plan which requires only an obedience to something higher than myself, a holy call to His eternal will.

Just keep livin

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