As my feverish brain-cells quarantine me with my thoughts, I can't help but spin into a pity party of illness. In the past two years (when I needed my little Levi well the most), I've battled three rounds of strep throat, three rounds of stomach bugs, multiple colds, a sinus infection, shingles, the flu and a laundry list of viruses all while being pregnant and/or nursing and caring for little human beings who cry out that they just "want mommy."
As I wait for the on-call doctor to prescribe the standard flu medicine, praying its safe for my unborn child, I listen in agony to little Levi choking in the other room, which is his natural MO when something is too difficult to swallow. I cringe and stiffen knowing he's about to lose his lunch without the proper distraction or assistance.
That's when the doctor hears my plea for help and advice on keeping my low-immunity kid away from the flu and out of the ER. She lovingly calls me Super Woman at the thought of my history and dilemma, and she bids me well.
I pull myself together, realizing I'm not dealing with chemo or cancer and begin a hard look at what God may be trying to teach me through all this illness.
That's when it finally hits me...
Being called "super woman" or "super mom" is not a compliment anymore. All it does is exacerbate my already prone ego.
I'm prone to fly with a cape based on the strength I saw in my parents.
I'm prone to depend on myself based on my family upbringing.
I'm prone to take the world on my own two shoulders based on the cards I've been dealt.
I'm pone to handle hardship without help because that's what I saw my mom and dad accomplish.
Lots of parents might seem like super heroes, but please don't say it to me because it just adds to my bank of prideful lies.
I have been subconsciously taking glory away from the one who has given me strength. I have falsely shrugged that my intense pain tolerance is just a product of my good genes.
I have forgotten to surrender my children, my health, and my well-being to the Lord because I've been trained to tackle the world alone.
I've come to believe that my fragile children are fragile without my presence.
While I'm grateful for the stamina built by my experiences, God is the one who gives and takes away strength. God is the one who allows peace in the midst of storms. God can give anyone supernatural powers if we would only trust His omnipotence. God is the one that should be shining as the Super hero. Not me. Forgive me. Forgive my pride. Forgive my misrepresentation of His awesome gifts.
He must become more. I must become less. This is the only way to truly remain in His presence.
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