Wednesday, October 11, 2017

24/7

Just when we thought we'd kind of graduated out of the constant ear infection/strep throat/croup phase of life with kids, we've had a few unexpected doctor trips lately. Nothing serious. Someone fell from the top of the slide. Then the other someone had a terrible sore throat. (With absolutely no regard to the fact that we just spent half our future nursing home fund getting his tonsils taken out and leaves me wondering just how many denture replacements and tapioca puddings that kid owes us.)

But on our latest waiting room adventure at urgent care, I was remembering when the kids were toddlers and we were at the doctor a LOT.  (I'm pretty sure Luke's asthma alone scored our favorite pediatrician a pretty sweet boat.) And I got to thinking about how awesome it would be to have an on-call doctor who was there for you 24/7. And you wouldn't have to set up camp in a loud, germy waiting room blasting Dinosaur Train waiting breathlessly for those magic words....the doctor will see you now. Even typing those words kinda floods me with a weird sense of urgency slash relief. Hurry and grab the sippy cup, the socks and shoes, the purple crayon, the carrot sticks you knew they wouldn't touch but had to pack so other moms would say hey at least she tried before you pulled out the real snack, the half eaten cheese puffs (see real snack above), the wet wipes you packed with the cheese puffs because come on it's not your first day, right? And then you are ushered through that magic door to get the magic medicine so the kids will once again get back to the MAGIC SLEEP.

But what if, no joke, you had unlimited access to a private physician and you could hear those magic words at any time of the day or night? Ear infection or a kid who just hates library day at school? The doctor will see you now. Scarlet fever or just a rash from the new sunscreen? The doctor will see you now. Is the baby's poop supposed to be that color? The doctor will see you now. Is it weird if there's a goose egg on TOP of the goose egg your superhero just got while scaling the changing table to see the baby's funny-colored poop? The doctor will see you now. Imagine the relief to skip all the annoying steps and get straight to the answers without the waiting, the worry, and the Dinosaur Train re-runs.

And my mind switched gears and I got to thinking about our unlimited, full time access to our Heavenly Father.

He's always there.
He has all the answers.
He's never annoyed with our requests.
He's always right.
He honestly cares.
He's on call every minute of every day and night.

When I wake up out of sorts, the doctor will see me now. When I paste a big smile on my face and give a hard kiss good-bye to the child who doesn't want to go, the doctor will see me now. When I rush back to my car so I can sob into the steering wheel all the anxiety I know my boy daily carries through that classroom door, the doctor will see me now.  When I scroll through my feed and suddenly my own life seems a little monotonous and less than, the doctor will see me now. When I snap at the people I love the most, the doctor will see me now. When I swear eating two doughnuts will make me feel better and of course it doesn't and when I'm disillusioned by a friend who's moved on and when I'm nervous about a test result and when I'm devastated by a family member's news, the doctor will see me all those times too. In all those moments no matter what my complaint, the doctor sees me.  To hold me and help me, to encourage and stretch me, to discipline and cradle me. To patch up my skinned knees and to reach way down to the soothe the deep hurts that no one else could ever heal. It's a wonderful thing to just let that sink in.  He's just a thought away. And He will never, ever get tired of helping us. Suffering from some heartache, anxiety, or hurt of your own? 

The Doctor will see you now.