It’s been a rough week or so. A sudden and formidable stomach bug and an early spring snowstorm hit last weekend, upending our plans to enjoy the start of the new season outdoors. The week before was also full of usual household stress: the mad dance of laundry baskets up and down the stairs, the 15 millionth example of how to carry the one into the tens column, the cat throwing up a hairball on the carpet two inches away from the linoleum (where cleaning it up would’ve been so much easier.) When I saw him hunched over, convulsing up another thing to put on my “to do” list, I cried. When I watched helplessly as my daughter grabbed the bucket and wretched up two teaspoons of Children’s Advil, I crumbled. The fever would continue. I took the obligatory two steps back and sank into my chair at the kitchen table. “What can I do to help?” asked my ever-attentive husband. “Nothing. That’s just it. There’s nothing you can really do. It’s just defeat by a thousand paper cuts.”
For God so loved the world that He gave His only son,
that whoever believes in Him
should not perish but have everlasting life.