This week Norah was sick... here's a picture:



Bringing Down the House

I am extremely clumsy today. I’ve tripped over a couple of chairs and almost run into a few doorframes and it’s not even lunchtime. My head is pounding, my eyes are burning and my whole body is saying, “Come on man, go to bed!” So, what is to blame for this sudden loss of equilibrium, coordination and energy? Well, Norah got sick at about half-past midnight and I was up all night with her while she lost her cookies into an empty trashcan again and again. Watching a little kid get stomach sick is one of the sadder things I’ve experienced in my life… It’s really hard before they can talk because they don’t know what’s happening and their confusion at your powerlessness causes them such horrific panic. When they are a bit older like Norah is now, it’s sad and sweet at the same time: sad because that pale face tells the whole story of how awful they feel, and sweet because they try so hard to be brave.

Last night as Norah started her sickness, Christy and I were running around like maniacs pulling sheets, grabbing towels and starting the bath. Christy was trying to console Norah by asking how she was doing and telling her how sorry she was. She looked at Norah and said, “Poor baby.” Norah said, “No, not poor… I’m okay Mom.” After we cleaned her up we pulled our two couches together and covered the smaller one in towels. We laid Norah on that couch and I sprawled out on the other one telling her, “Hey, this night will be great! We’ll just have a slumber party, okay?” Those sweet little eyes looked so vacant as she nodded her head and tried hard to smile. I got Norah some books to read and told her that if she felt like she was going to get sick to just say my name and I would help her up and grab the bucket. We lay there for a while, Norah reading her book while I read old emails and web pages when all of a sudden I heard it…

“Daddy?” It was the smallest, scratchiest and faintest sound my baby girl has ever made. It was a plea for help! She could feel herself getting sick and so she cried out as loud as she could, which was three steps below a whisper, and I was like a man possessed! I know I was only three feet away from her on the next couch, but if I had been across the desert I would have gotten there just as fast! At the sound of that needy cry, my heart exploded with an intense ferocity and I just had to get to my girl! I would have gotten to her if I had to swim the whole ocean, fight armies or tear the whole house down with my bare hands! The needy cry of my hurting child awoke something strong in me and it reminded me of our heavenly Father…

Psalm 18 says, “In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help. 
 From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. The earth trembled and quaked, and the foundations of the mountains shook; they trembled because he was angry. Smoke rose from his nostrils; consuming fire came from his mouth, burning coals blazed out of it. He parted the heavens and came down; dark clouds were under his feet. He mounted the cherubim and flew; he soared on the wings of the wind. He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him— the dark rain clouds of the sky. Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced, with hailstones and bolts of lightning. The LORD thundered from heaven; the voice of the Most High resounded…” When we cry out to Him, even if it’s three steps below a whisper, He tears heaven apart, bringing down the house, riding clouds and hurling lightning to get to us! Now I know how it feels to be Him when your precious child calls out in need, and it makes me want to cry out to Him more and more!