Breathe.

     I'm cooked.  This season has fried me.  Stick a fork in it.  On top of it all Ellanor got a head cold. Now, Ellanor's head colds always go strait to her lungs thanks to a nasty case of pneumonia inflamed RSV as a baby.  That was an ER trip I'll never forget.  My 9 month old just could not breathe on any level.  She hurt.  She vomited.  She needed a nebulizer.
     Our nebulizer saved Sarah's life many times.  As the albuterol hit her lungs she could breath again.  Thank goodness her life is no longer dotted with these scary asthmatic events.  She has grown out of all symptoms.  When Ellanor started making the same noises that day, we got to the dr on time. When Joey's croup cough was so bad he could not breathe, Sarah's albuterol and the familiar buzz saved the day and the panic subsided in his eyes.  From my perspective, the fish face mask and lung opening steroids racing to the scene are the very tools God used to save all three of my babies from suffering and potentially death.
   For the children in question, the nebulizer is something else entirely.  I'm fairly certain when they hear the words, "breathing treatment," they start thinking that I am part of a child hating organization that forces kids to suck in stinky air.  While they are wheezing, hacking, screaming, and kicking me, I must forcibly hold them down while soothing saying it will be all over soon.  All they have to do is sit there and breathe.  Litereally.  Just SIT THERE!!  They ache, they are scared and the relief that is coming makes them more scared.
     This reminded me of me.  How many times has God said to me, "Hey you, my daughter, I know how to fix this if you let me.  All you have to do is sit there and just breathe.  I'll do the work.  It is what I do best."  How many times have I said, "It can't be that easy!  I'm going to run around uselessly trying to fix it myself!" All the while making the situation worse.  In this crazy season with  the demands of seasonal angst, Christmas presents that came broken in the mail, Holiday Day pageants that celebrate next to nothing, and a sick preschoolers, I am still trying to harbor the familiar, giddy excitement.  Jesus is coming. And like the medicine that soothes my daughter's lungs, He can fix it.  He can make it better.  All we have to do, is let Him.