Servant

Grandma and Abigail both came down with a cold this week at exactly the same time.

We've been more or less living like germaphobic hermits since Grandma came to live with us since we knew any kind of virus was likely to be pretty hard on her.  Adding a brand-new baby to the mix only made us more careful, but no matter how careful we were, we finally picked something up after nearly 18 months.  We're not exactly sure how we got this particular virus since we've been that careful, but somehow both the people we wanted to protect the most got sick. In some respects, I'm pretty grateful they got sick at the same time because I have no idea how we would've been able to keep one from getting the other sick if they hadn't gotten it together.  Likewise, I'm thankful Ben and I have stayed healthy this long because it would've been a REALLY long week otherwise.

Sometime in the blur of walking Abigail and being up at night shooing Grandma into a steamy bathroom so she could breathe, I remembered a song I like to sing that I learned from my mom.  It's called "I Am A Servant" and it's about a person waiting to see how God is going to use them to serve him since the person was made to be a servant and wants God to choose him/her for a task.  In many ways, I've been serving my entire adult life, but not as I am serving now.

Now, don't get me wrong: this is not something to be upset about or resentful of.  In our current culture, we don't like to be in a position where anyone can call us servants.  Even people whose professional job it is to serve people don't literally call themselves "servants" but "servers", "waiters/waitresses", "flight attendants", "hostesses", and lots of other names.  I think because perhaps we view being a servant a lot like being a slave (which isn't a bad thing either, in the correct context - being a slave to righteousness, for example) and we love our freedom in this country.  Being a servant or a slave is something we're too proud to be.

There are times I don't like feeling like a servant either.  Having to lay down what I want for what other people want doesn't come easily or naturally.  I don't get excited about getting out of bed at 3 am to shepherd Grandma into the bathroom, convince her she's not dying, talk her into drinking water, putting Vicks on her, then going back to my room to suction a very unhappy Abigail's nose so she can breathe so she can nurse.  I would say this wasn't something I volunteered for...except I did.  When I sang that song, I meant it.  I wanted - and I still want - to serve God the way he planned.  And he planned me to serve here.

I've heard people say God called them to do much more romantic-sounding things, like starting new churches or going to China to run an underground Bible-distribution system or running an orphanage in Haiti.  But I suspect they feel pretty much the same way I do when I'm up at 3 in the morning.  They say, "What am I doing here again?" and then they remember, "Oh yes...I'm here because I asked God to send me where he wanted me.  And this is where I want to be.  And it will even feel a lot better when the sun comes up."

I am pleased to report that this is true: things are much better by the time the sun comes up; and last night I didn't even get up at all.  I think we might just have survived this one.  I'm also pleased to report that Ben's purchase of a new pacifier was approved by Abigail, which allowed her to take a nice long nap during the afternoon for the first time in a week yesterday.  Much as I love her, I prefer her to sleep when she's not feeling good.  My back gets pretty tired after a day of walking back and forth in the living room - I could probably draw a map of all the boards in the layout of our wood floor by now!

Now if Ben and I can just stay healthy...

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