Battling the Bug

I have been battling the bug that makes a speedy appearance and then a quick getaway. My daughter first acknowledged (nice way of putting it, right?) this virus on a Monday night, first on one side of her bed and then on the other. Ugh. So each of the kids got to sleep next to a big bowl for the rest of the night. The next day, my other daughter claimed she was fine and didn't need a bucket anymore. Since I have had a lot of experience with this dreadful bug, I insisted she keep it with her at all times. Stubborn girl went upstairs without it and on the way down experienced such a technicolor yawn that it hit the wall three feet away. Double ugh. Time to pray.

So I call all my friends and ask them to pray, because I hate this kind of bug. I want it gone and I will fight. I claim all the promises of GOD for my family, knowing that GOD is faithful, knowing that HE is way bigger than this microscopic virus. But at some point, I am struck with the realization that my own faith is not bigger than microscopic vermin, certainly not a mustard seed. The evidence of my lack was the fear I had that made me give everyone buckets.

How can fear exist side by side with faith? How can I pray for complete healing and still have buckets for when the sickness comes? What am I really preparing for? So I made the stand. It took everything in me, but I put the buckets away (it took three days to get the courage, the faith). On Friday night, my son upchucked - in the throne of disposal where he was supposed to. But I didn't feel defeated, and I didn't feel like my faith had failed. Can't explain that feeling, since all evidence pointed to the contrary, but I knew GOD was with me and HE and I, we were good.

The following Tuesday our roomate got sick. Guess the prayers didn't cover him, but since no one else was sick I felt victorious enough to share about my battle over this sickness and the strengthening my faith received. After all, it had been more than a week and out of the eight people I see every day only four had been ill. I shared this glorious news with my friend Thursday. The very next day my stomach was doing rock and roll with a heavy bass beat on an ocean liner in a storm! Did my faith falter? Yes. Did I grab a bowl? Yes, two actually (upstairs and down - for some reason I couldn't think to keep it with me on the stairs). Did I pray and worship GOD anyway? Yep. I knew that no matter what I would love HIM, praise HIM, and not blame HIM. Did I throw up? NOPE! GOD graciously gave me that victory.

So to sum up: I prayed for healing for my family, realized my faith was too small, so I prayed for more faith, got sick anyway, but never lost my bagel. I would call that a victory overall. And maybe someday soon my faith will be as a mustard seed, growing and reaching the amazing depths that might even move the mountains one day.