Having two daughters spaced four years apart had its challenges. The younger one always wanted to be as advanced as her sister and was slightly annoyed if she felt I was paying more attention to her sibling. She made sure I knew it. Even before she could speak, she would make it known that she wanted to be the top dog.
She noticed early on that our physical abilities were superior to hers, and she wasn’t happy until she was on the same level.
She learned to crawl by eight months old and began to pull herself up by using the furniture to hang on to within that same time frame.
One night, she saw that we were sitting with a blanket over us. My oldest daughter had meticulously set up her pillow, a few stuffed animals and had settled in next to me, absolutely content watching one of her favorite shows.
The other one came by, pulled on the blanket, and screeched. She pulled so hard that before I could lift her that it sent her sister’s enormous bowl of popcorn showering all over us. The quilt we were using ended up on the ground. The stuffed animals were in a crumpled mess with pillows scattered everywhere.
Like that magic trick where the person pulls the tablecloth, but the silverware doesn’t budge.
Jealousy and competition had given her the strength of ten people. It was so shocking to witness an infant take over like that.
While we cleaned up the mess, she sat on the floor laughing.
She progressed quickly from barely walking and was fully able to run by nine months old. Not always steadily, but with speed.
I saw the two of them run by, but the younger one had gotten a hold of the back of her sister’s nightgown. She had her in a hostage situation, clutching onto the material with both hands. While the little one beamed with glee, the other one panicked.
“Mom! She has me! Help!”
It was the strangest sight to see the younger one executing such a power play over someone who could easily outmatch her.
“You do know she’s a baby. You are four. You are older and can get away from her?”
I unhooked her from her kidnapper so she could go free.
When the oldest was learning to print her name when she turned 5, I thought it would be a great idea to have her write it on all the valentines for a homeschool party she would attend with other kids her age. I figured after 40 of them, she would have it down pretty good.
I didn’t want to leave the other out even though she did not yet possess the motor skills. I found her a little purple ink stamp with her name on it so she could use it.
Before I left the room, I said,
“Only use that on the paper, okay? Don’t put that on anything but the paper.”
She nodded in understanding.
I left for milliseconds and returned to find her name emblazoned across her forehead, arms, and any place bare skin had been. The one across her lips was creative.
Her sister had been so concentrated on forming each letter of her name that she hadn’t noticed the rampage next to her.
It wouldn’t be the last time she had a run-in with ink.
A few months later, while her sister attended a roller skating birthday party, she and I sat off to the side watching. I had brought an assortment of things for her to do, including washable markers and coloring books. I had glanced up to check on her sister when I heard the sucking in of air, like a deep gasp.
I quickly turned back to find her holding both hands up in front of her face in total horror. Her color choice had been red, and it had gotten on her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, wondering why this was so traumatic. She could come into the house totally filthy and not care. Her mouth was wide open in a silent scream as she gathered in as much oxygen as her lungs would allow. Then the wailing started.
I had a difficult time making out what she was trying to say.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I AM BLEEDING!” She used all of her strength to say it as panic shut her down.
It appeared that she had been playing with sharp knives.
I got out a wet wipe and quickly cleaned her hands. Within a split second, she looked down, smiled, and said,
Things aren’t always as they appear. Like a funhouse mirror that distorts your image to make you look taller or shorter, sometimes our senses and how we think can play tricks on us.
Three years ago, I had my roof replaced after a storm. A sunny day suddenly turned dark as the skies broiled angrily with fast moving clouds.
I had received a message from a family member that they had gotten hit with strong winds, and he sent photos of chunks of hail. It was headed my way.
Our sirens were going off, indicating that we should go into the basement. However, it looked so calm outside that I went out to see how ominous it was. My daughter and I watched as large raindrops started to hit the driveway. We were standing in a corner that provided us the ability to not get wet between the house and the garage.
Slight sprinklings of pea-sized hail began.
“This isn’t good,” I said. “I think we should go in.”
As I said this, it was as if a switch was thrown, and ice baseballs began to come down everywhere. We were trapped because there was no way to come out for a split second without getting nailed with multiple of these.
We watched as puddles in the street looked like they were hit with small bombs nonstop. We huddled in the corner as the wind whipped branches and other debris flew in the air.
Once we quit screaming, we went back into the house unscathed. But, I knew that the house was not.
I immediately contacted my insurance representative, who sent over someone the next day to help. It was determined I had damage, and the process for repair on paper was begun.
First, I had to come up with a $2500 deductible, which I did not have.
“We can fix this right now,” he said.
“I don’t have the deductible at the moment.”
I knew if I had him do the work, I would be in debt. I was using everything I had to pay off a $10,000 debt that had been strangling me financially for over eight years. I had vowed to myself never to create more of it after taking lousy advice under pressure in the past and being too trusting.
This meant living in a limited, constricted way. I didn’t want to add to the stress.
“We do roofs until the first week of October. That way, we know we won’t have any snow. You are one of my first houses. We will book up quickly, so we really should do it right now.”
As he said this, one of my neighbors appeared.
“Do you replace roofs?” she asked.
“Can you look at mine?“
After inspecting it, it was determined she needed it fixed.
“How quickly can you do this? I’m putting it on the market next week.”
There were workers all over her property by the next day, and I had been given a referral discount off of mine.
I noticed another neighbor needed work done, so I wondered if they wanted a second opinion. They already had a sign in their yard from one of the many companies going door to door. I knew the competition was high.
After my inspection, a stranger came with a ladder and climbed up unsolicited. When I confronted him with the threat I could report him to the city; he realized he was at the wrong address and quickly left.
When my other neighbor signed up with the man I referred, this meant another discount for me.
I was still short $1500.
With work being completed on both sides of me, I was tempted to get it done and figure out the cost later. I kept hearing to wait it out.
By early fall, I received a higher property tax refund than anticipated.
“I think we should fix your gutters, too,” I was told in the interim. “I will do them at cost.”
Four months had gone by while I watched everyone else having work done. We had gorgeous weather, and I had paid it off in full by the time the job was completed. I had made up my mind not to allow more debt.
What had appeared impossible at the start took care of itself.
The only slight setback in the whole process was that the noise of the reconstruction had deeply disturbed one of my dogs. It was as if she anticipated the entire house crashing down even though there was no danger. She refused to sleep lying down, but as fatigue would hit her, she would fall over, wake up, and the process would start again. For days she did this until her body forced her back into a regular sleep pattern.
Her faulty senses and limited ability to understand had resulted in her being a nervous wreck.
Unlike her, we have access to insider information that can be easily tapped into if we allow it.
In Jeremiah 33:3 it says:
This is God’s Message, the God who made earth, made it livable and lasting, known everywhere as God: ‘Call to me, and I will answer you. I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.’ (Message)
This leading generally doesn’t come in noisily but rather in subtle, quiet ways that only can be heard when there is no fear interference. Your reaction in the moment of adversity will determine how long you suffer.
Frustration, competition, and jealousy aren’t the ways out.
If you are willing to put aside what you think is true and seek out the One of all truth, the drama gets silenced. You won’t bleed to death because it’s just an illusion.