Devotion 340 - Band-Aids

We have determined that my tiny daughter has a bizarre and occasionally expensive addiction. At bedtime and when we find ourselves in any store that sells any type of pharmaceutical, she starts to whimper and cry for what we shall call her “fix.”

She wants a new box of paper sealed Band-Aids.

Strangely the love of these sticky, character adorned treats ebbs and flows, but there are times, we are painfully aware, the addiction is still alive and well.

I was riding along in the car, my 19-year old in the front seat and my 5-year old band aid girl in the back. It was a rare occasion.  An evening of shopping for the 19-year old, readying him once again for college. Strange this,  the guy who works, goes to school and can drive himself to Starbuck for a chai tea still likes to shop with his old mom. 

 I don’t kid myself here.  I realize mom’s wallet may be the motivation, but I tend to soak up these moments, even when I have to pull out my wallet as precious time with our precious son.

We went from store to store with Ava asking repeatedly when we would stop for “bambees at greens,”  translation:  Band aids at Walgreens.

 We were ending our evening and I had to admit to the addict that band aids were not on our list.

A few whimpers later and our 19-year old Psych student started to question my willingness to feed the Hello Kitty and Barbie Band Aid need.

College is an odd dropper of knowledge.  

Bailey wows us often with his Bible and book knowledge, but there is a practical side of this learning that seems to come from age not curriculum. He waxed wisdom in his most medical of tones that I should not be giving in to this fakery.  He reminded me and his sister that she had no wounds worthy of any treatment.

There is a part of me that wished I was shopping for clothes to return Bailey to first or fifth grade.  There is a piece of this spreading of wings that I despise, but there is a precious part too that keeps him flying out but still close to the nest.  I spoke of his former “addictions.”

The Thomas the Tank shirt for which he would cry to wear every Sunday morning and the blue blanket in which his thumb had to be inserted in the notch of the tag to fall asleep.  We all crave something.  We all wish for comfort.  We all want a covering that protects, binds, heals and endures.

My son was fresh from the wound of losing a friend who died in an accident while he was on a missions trip to the Ukraine. As long as I live I will never forget his tone as he called me from an ocean away.  We knew.  We had just been holding the precious family in prayer whose daughter had been ushered into the arms of Jesus.  Bailey’s voice shook, his heart ached.  He had one question, “how does a family survive this?”

“We don’t know” I answered, “but God does.”

Of all the tragedies in life, we know God knows this one;  He watched the death of His only Son.

I wept inside for the family’s pain.  I wept outside for Bailey’s.  I wanted to band aid it.  I wanted to cover it up.  Somehow I didn’t want him to know so far away, working 12-hours each day on the missions field. 

We fight to protect, to cover, to shield, but sometimes the wound is too big, the pain to great and for a while we hemorrhage with the wonder of life and the meaning of death.

And the promises we sung about in Sunday school and read about during sleepless nights become real and have to hold the Author to His word that He holds our tears, He carries our sorrows and He knows our grief.

We return His words to Him and pray heaven down on pain that cannot be described and sorrow that cannot be swallowed.

I turn to my son who wants me not to stop at Walgreen for another box of band aids and pray when he returns to school and drinks in more life that there is some love that is incomprehensible.

We give into 5-year old children that are passionate about wooden trains and plastic bandages because we know that God is passionate about us all.

Somehow we want to throw caution to the wind and practicality out of the purse strings and say its okay, you are worth it, and as crazy as I am about you, Jesus is even wilder about you.

Someone has lost a child.  Until Glory comes, they will not hug, not say good night, and not go school shopping.  So my family and I will hold each other a little tighter, stay up a little later, shop a little longer and stop for one more band aid.

And we thank our Heavenly Father...

We thank Him for a day when pain is not our first thought and sorrow not our last. 

We thank Him for a love we cannot understand and a sacrifice we don’t ever want to comprehend.

And we rejoice that no matter which chapter, we know the end. 

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber.

 Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul.The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.  Psalm 121