#faith

I'm going to back to university tomorrow and I'm glad for the first time that it will be the last time that I will need to say goodbye to my parents for another few months because their home will be my home once more. And while I can't deny the benefits of staying at home again, such as warmth, food and unlimited use of the espresso maker (which is what my classmates think), I know the real reason for me is the fact that I'll be able to be around, if they need me.

Every time I come back home, it gets harder for me to leave them. I feel like they've been cheated out of their golden years and I see how hard life is for them and sometimes, I am surprised that they are able to handle what life has allotted to them - and then I know, it is only possible through the grace of God. I feel so helpless in the face of it all - my mere presence is not going to solve the problem of my mother's clotting disorder, nor is it going to help the fact that my brother is getting increasingly hard to handle as he grows older and stronger. It is only through the knowledge that I am so little, so weak that I know that I need God - that I need him to be, why I need to believe. To have that knowledge that everything is within His hands and that as much as I may worry over my family with much futility, that He is in control.

I am such a little shit - and I take both God and my parents for granted. I will admit that I am not a model Christian and I do not spend nearly enough time on daily devotions. But a little example of how He works, despite us being the most ungrateful wretches to walk this earth:

So, my sister and I returned from university for the holidays but we only crossover at home for three days because I start the second half of my semester much sooner. Dad had taken leave from work for two of those days because it would be nice to go out and have a meal together, seeing as it was such a rare opportunity to have both of us home at the same time. So we had planned to go somewhere nice on Tuesday to eat out. Alas, Monday night, Mum started getting a temperature and bony aches, which meant that Tuesday's excursion was off the cards with what looked like to be the onset of the flu. I was concerned because:
a) when Mum gets sick, she generally takes it harder than most people because she is already weaker and she's just so busy running around all of us
b) I'm a selfish shit and I had been looking forwards to eating out (naturally, Mum was like "Oh you should go out without me with your father", but obviously that would be rude, so I was trying to be the bigger person and was like "Oh, no - we'll stay at home with you" whilst trying to hide my disappointment)
c) again, because I am a selfish shit, I did not want to get sick right before seeing E. on Thursday

I said that we were all selfish wretches. I am definitely not exempt from this.

Anyway, Monday night - Mum took two tablets of paracetamol and slept. I prayed earnestly and admitted that while yes, lunch out would be nice, ultimately I really wanted Mum to be well because she's already got enough to deal with.
I woke Tuesday morning not really hoping for much, but to my surprise, Mum was fine. She had no temperature and was her usual self. Now, I know that the paracetamol helped (given my background, of course I love my medicines) - but it was a single dose that she took at 9pm the night before. And I honestly thought it was going to be the flu because she had all the herald symptoms. But no flu. No temperature. And yes to lunch out with my family.

It's these little things that God does, that reminds me that He's still looking out for my family.