Count it all joy

The last two weeks have been nuts. It started with this weird virus that gave everyone (but me, thank you Jesus) high fevers and this weird rash. The fever made the kids throw up. Everywhere.

Just when we were out of the woods with that one Sarah came down with RSV. Then Hannah. Then Moses. And Miah. Then HG got an ear infection. Then I came down with the nasty. Aaaaaand to round things out nicely we just came back with more antibiotics and what not to treat Sarah's ear infection.

Have any of you ever gave three babies breathing treatments back to back? I'm wondering if I can OD on albuterol. The fumes, man.

Through it all I have earnestly been praying for healing. That God would drive the sickness from us (Ex 23:25). Apparently the answer was no. I asked that his grace would be sufficient (2 Cor 12:9), but honestly it didn't help my sleep deprived, sick self all that much. I found myself wallowing in a bit o' self pity and kiiiinda inwardly yelling "Why God, WHY?!" (please laugh with me here) as I cleaned up another round of vomit or got up for the twentieth time or held an inconsolable baby in my arms. Honestly, I was so confused. I was asking God to heal my littles and he just simply didn't. I was asking for wisdom as to how to comfort them and nothing came to me in a flash of light. Slowly over the last couple of weeks my heart has settled on this: in this world we will have trouble (John 16:33). We will. Furthermore, I'm supposed to consider it pure joy when I encounter trials of many kinds (James 1:2). How in the world can I develop the character God wants me to have if I balk at every trial, every test? God works in us, yes, but I have to cooperate. I want God to just zap me and make me patient, make me kind, make me super mom... but it doesn't necessarily work that way. I have to be more willing to do the hard thing and not get so upset that it's, um hard! Thank you Jesus, that you are more patient with me than I am with myself.