Juggling

I'm thinking about the family whose toddler daughter will begin chemo tomorrow. Can you imagine being that parent on the night before? How anxious you would be to hold on to every minute of before. Every second would be packed with the intense joy of being together and the heartrending knowledge that tomorrow everything changes. Tomorrow hurts.

Of course, in spite of the pain that comes with tomorrow, it also brings hope. And I suppose that is how a parent gets through the night before. 

I'm thinking about the things that invade our lives, add stress to them, take away time together. The things that don't really matter. The things that maybe can wait until a time and place when your kids are grown and gone. Their spiritual characters are formed, the foundation in your home is cured and settled and not likely to gain cracks. All those things that clutter up these few precious days. 

Life is often a juggling act. All the pieces moving in a precise motion. But what happens when your hands get too full? Juggling gets a lot harder and eventually, the balls will all fall. 

If you are juggling with rubber balls, then eventually they will bounce back. But if you juggle with things that may break, well, you can't drop them. Or you will find a glittering pile at your feet, pieces scattered in a million directions. 

Your family, time with them, those are the fragile glass balls that should never be juggled. If they fall, they break. Yes, grace abounds and forgiveness and healing can all take place, but you don't get back today. Or yesterday. They are gone. If you must juggle, juggle the things that can bounce back later. Juggle "me time". Juggle your golf game. Juggle hobbies. Juggle extracurricular activities that eat up precious time. Don't juggle your family. 

I'm thinking about the family whose toddler daughter will begin chemo tomorrow. I have a feeling that they know with more certainty than they have ever felt in their lives, what really matters. What time well spent really means. Important has taken on a whole knew meaning with sorrowful clarity. Is this phone call really that important? Or is sending that email really that important? Or are the imploring eyes of your child, their arms reaching for you, is that important?

Pray for a precious little girl, Immy, as tomorrow begins a difficult period for this family. Pray for parents who face a mountain, with glittering steep sides and menacing dark valleys. But who also know the One who has brought them to this climb, and who trust Him for every step. The doctors are optimistic, the parents are at peace, now the Great Physician will do His work. Pray on.

*This post was inspired in part by the wonderful parenting series our church just finished. You can watch online at http://www.graystonechurch.com/watch