He woke at midnight - writhing and angry. i shushed, offered water, walked, nursed, comforted with lights on - and off, held tight, and let loose. Nothing worked.
He screamed - the blue veins sticking out of his tiny furious neck.
i could NOT get him to stop.
It was the most insane thing.
Neil got up after the first hour to see what (ahem), *on earth*- was happening & then went back to bed with the bathroom fan on. i don't blame him - he has no patience & this was beyond him helping. Baby wasn't just 'fussing' he was all out going crazy. i covered his mouth for parts of it because it was so incredibly loud & the other littles were (trying to) sleep.
Finally... spent - at age 35 - i bowed my head and cried. Big alligator tears slid down my haggard face as i sat & beheld rage and had not. one. more. tool in my mothering toolbox.
"Oh God - you told the wind and the rain to be calm, and they obeyed you. Can't you still this small boy for his crying mama?"
& i turned... expecting him to fall into a peaceful slumber...
But he didn't.
The child raged on.
For two full hours he screamed - until he was utterly spent - and slowly, painfully (painfully because if i moved an inch in the wrong direction, he would start screaming again) - my son finally went back to sleep.
And i wondered why God didn't answer that little prayer in the affirmative. Such a small thing to get hung up on - when there is hunger and famine, sickness, death and disease in our world. It was a baby's tantrum that caused me to wonder in fascination at the prayers that aren't answered.
It feels like a months... years long conversation i am having with my Father. He teaches me, and conforms my heart to His. He hears - and sees... yet is sometimes not heard or seen. He is compassionate, full of love - and yet He is Holy and just.
& i long to be already arrived - changed, conformed, made perfect... & the raging world around me flings me to my knees - hungry for more of Him.