Faster Than A Speeding Bullet

I was settling my son into the church nursery last Sunday morning when the lights flickered, and then the fire alarm sounded. There were two nursery workers and two other children besides my son, so the adult to child ratio was excellent as far as exiting the building as soon as possible. My other two children were in another building at children’s church with their father, so I knew they were in good hands. I heaved my son up onto my hip. And in the span of only a second or two, I envisioned carrying him outside to safety, crossing the parking lot, as we’re instructed to do, and waiting until the fire department arrives and gives the all clear. Which I knew could take a long long while.

I always try to look at the end result as I’m making life and death decisions.

My son, who is a full month from turning two, weighs 35 pounds. He’s roughly the size of a large 4 year old. A 4 year old with an ox sized iron strong will. If this child doesn’t want to be carried, he has been known to wrestle me to the ground. In public. And he doesn’t care if Mommy is wearing a dress.

So, I did what any reasonable mother would do. I leapt over the baby gate in a single bound (thusly ensuring my Supermommy status in my mind) into the hall of the burning building, where I deftly wrestled my son into his stroller (the one with the beverage cup containing Mommy’s coffee drink), and with the agility of a gazelle, sprinted out the next nearest exit. I then took my place across the parking lot, and calmly sipped my coffee drink, while my son watched the action from the safety of his stroller. I began thinking to myself, this could have been so much worse. What if I had forgotten his stroller? What if he had wriggled out of my arms and gotten away from me? What if I had left my coffee drink in the van?

I pause to explain that there was actually no smoke. Nor was there any fire. But if there had been, I couldn’t have been any swifter. I’m just sayin’.

And so we waited in the cold until we were given the all clear to reenter the building. I then resettled my son back into his class, and went on my merry way to church service, my supermommy cape blowing behind me.

I missed the praise and worship portion of service, a blessing to the people directly in front of us, as I’m completely and totally tone deaf. But I was in plenty of time for the message, which was awesome, as usual. Our pastor was discussing the disciple Peter’s faith as Peter stepped out of the boat to join Jesus walking on the water. When Peter took his eyes from Jesus, and focussed on the calamity around him, he began to sink. Jesus reached out his hand and caught him saying, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Suddenly my supermommy cape began to feel a little heavy on my shoulders. I thought about my struggles with faith and believing, and how frustrating that must be for God. There are days that I fight and writhe, not unlike my stubborn and willful son. And like Peter, I need to keep my focus on Jesus, and not the calamity around me. Because as surely as my gaze wavers, I sink like a stone.

And as I’m called upon to perform heroic feats of strength, in an everyday effort to care for my family, that fortitude will not be my own. It will come from the Lord. And not from my over inflated sense of supermommy power.

Isaiah 41:13 For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.