Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Good things come in little packages.

This past weekend was a riot. Literally. Imagine a group of 10 screaming, hyped up, smelly junior-highs all up in your face...then multiply it by...say...100? Yep. That's junior high convention for you. But don't get me wrong, it was a blast. I love working with junior-highs and seeing the world from their perspective again... It makes me laugh a lot.. it really is fun. But man, it is tiresome...so I was more than ready to hit my bed at 9:00pm on Saturday night when I arrive home...

Then Sunday came around...the alarm went off around 7..ish..something...then...7:30..I think...then 8:00...then..oh yeah, I had to get up because I remembered I was co-leading worship at my church and had to be there and ready to soundcheck at 8:30... all went smoothly till about 3/4 of the way through the actual set when the sheet music infront of me started changing colours and I almost passed out... but the strange light-headed dizzy feeling soon went away with a few sips of water which I stole from the pastor's stash in the front row... oops.

... your probably wondering where I am going with this right now... don't worry I'm getting there soon..

Then Sunday afternoon hit, right after I made myself a delicious lunch that nagging feeling came back in my head, and I felt like the whole world was spinning around me in double-time. ..So I did what I do best, at around 12:30 I laid down for a nap...5 hours later... I woke up even worse off...fast forward even more and I was even worse. Monday, basically the only thing my face saw was my pillow and the toilet bowl. ... By  the time Tuesday morning came around, I was feeling a little bit better, however still not my best. But, I crankily got ready and set out to make my morning trek to school. All day, I was sick-tired-don't-talk-to-me-cause-I-don't-wanna-talk-to-you-cranky-Allison.  ...that is, until I came home.

A few minutes after I got through the door my mom arrived home with Grace. This little girl was born 12 days ago. She's so tiny and she is as light as a feather. She's absolutely beautiful. You wouldn't guess by looking at her, that she's unwanted by her parents, or that she's fighting for her life due to the drug abuse her mother put her through during her pregnancy. Actually, she doesn't even have a name... the doctors told my mom that they just started calling her Grace because they didn't know what to call her.  ... Grace.

If you look it up in a baby name book it means "favour" or "blessing." If you understand God's grace it means so much more than just a favour or a blessing...  and that's what she is. She's so much more than a favour or a blessing. I've only spent a few hours with her, and she's already been a blessing to my life. She helped me realize how caught-up I was in how I was feeling about my poor little sickness, when here she is fighting for her life - and no one is there to help fight with her. No one was there to call her their own. No one spent time just loving her, except for maybe a few nurses who had a few moments to spare during their shift.

...So my point? I have learned yet another lesson. Suck it up, there are more important things to worry about. Go be a blessing in someone's life. Do them a favour. Even if you don't feel like it...  and maybe you'll be suprised by grace... often, we receive it, when we don't deserve it.

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