Beware the Supplicant

    I prayed, "Lord, I am weary. Look down on me, your humble servant, and see the schedule ahead. See the energetic children. I am weary with much laundry and cooking disasters. I desire nothing so much as NOTHING. Oh, Lord, grant me rest."
    I prayed, "Lord, I am unworthy. I have not practiced enough to play the violin in the concert in four days. I have not more time to practice and verily, I will make a fool of myself. How can I avoid this?"
    I prayed, "Lord, I am afraid. I am constantly anxious for the well being of my loved ones. I do not trust myself to be kind or faithful or even polite if someone ever risked hurt to my babies. This tendency toward homicide is not of You. Oh, Lord, how can I face this fear and conquer it?"
  I prayed, "Lord, I am unable to sleep. My doctor bids me practice calm. He orders me to create a mantra of peace, he advises me to meditate, and when I ask how to do this as quickly as possible, he sighs, for I have missed the point. Again. I can't make my brain shut up either waking or sleeping. Oh, Lord, let me truly, deeply sleep."


   And then, I went out into the world.


   The title of this blog should warn readers from the beginning that I am a platypus. I am a creation of many things which, thrown together, can only make an observer laugh. I believe that the platypus and I share the burden of glory to make God laugh as well. And when I do go before the Throne, I go with confidence as I ought, and leave with more confidence than I should - for who knows what will happen when the Almighty answers the prayer of a platypus?

   I left the doctor's office, armed with ideas on how to conquer sleep (because that's how that will work), went out into the world, and fetched my daughter from a friend's house. I played her favorite cd and sang "I will sing of the mercies of the Lord  FOR-EV-er...." And I stopped at a red light with plenty of space between myself and the next car.
   Unfortunately, I had no control of the space between me and the car behind me. Or the car behind it.

   Crunch. CRUNCH. That very depressingly expensive sound. There is no sound like it. 

   "Baby?!" I spun around. "Princess? Are you all right?"
    She blinked at me, bewildered, then grinned. "YEAH!"
    "Okay, okay." I drove quickly into the cutest gas station in town (Cashion's at Old. Statesville) and noted with relief that both drivers behind me followed. I called 911, gave the pertinent information, got out of the car, and gathered my girlie into my arms. At this point, she had begun to cry, because the Princess hates parked cars.
    "Is she okay?!" asked the older driver of the white car. 
    "Yes, I think so," I answered.
    "Oh, good. My dog is okay too."
    "Oh, my GOSH - is she okay?" asked the college student driver of the green car. "Oh my GOSH - this is all my fault. I was looking in my backpack - "
    "And I had my dog in my lap -"
    I spent fifteen minutes calming her until the police arrived. I found my license and registration like a mature adult, and as I related to the officer what had happened, I suddenly realized ---
      -- I hadn't raised my voice once. I hadn't inflicted bodily injury on anyone. I wasn't homicidal. I was sore. And relieved.

    The fire trucks arrived. Princess shrieked in delight and waved and smiled and melted the firemen. "Are you all right, little lady?" one asked.
    "Yes!" she informed him. She batted her eyelashes.
   "Ma'am? Are you all right?" he asked.
    "Oh, yes, I'm fine," I said.
    "Would you like to go to the hospital?"
    I blinked. "I have to vacuum."
   "Oh. Yes." He exchanged glances with his colleague. "I'll be back later."


    He came back with a medic. "Hello," the medic said. "How are you?"
   "Just fine," I said. "A bit sore, now that you mention it."
   "Why don't you come over to the ambulance and let us check you out?"
   "Oh, I'm all right." I pointed to Princess. "She seems okay, but would you look at her?"
   "Wallace and Gromit!" Princess said, clinging to my smartphone and its Netflix app.
   "Would you like to come to the hospital?" Medic asked kindly.
   "Oh, no!" I said. "I would hate to waste medical resources!"
    Medic turned to Fireman. "I have never heard that phrase before, have you?"
    "Nope," Fireman shook his head. "That's a new one."

    My knight in shining armor arrived. I threw myself into the arms of my dear husband and immediately felt all the calm rush out of me. I was shaking and sore and so glad to see him. (He is tall and handsome and perfectly suited to embraces that allow one a moment of respite).
   "Are you okay?" he asked.
    "We're fine," I said.
    "Daddy!" squealed Princess, immediately leaping into his arms. I may have momentarily wished I could do the same.
    "Hello, sir." Medic reappeared. "Just asking your wife how she's feeling again."
    They turned on me. "I'm fine," I said. "Just sore."
    "Maybe you should get checked out," the Dear Husband said.
    "I have to pick up Jack and make lunch and clean before my lessons."
    "You are doing none of those things," my better half answered firmly.
    "But - "
    "What is your recommendation?" he asked Medic.
    "I always recommend a trip to the hospital to be safe," Medic answered. "It's my opinion and our policy."
    "Then we'll get them checked out," DH said. He put his arm around me. "Just to be safe."
    "What do I do to be useful?" I asked Medic.
     He smiled. "Nothing. You're officially a patient. You are to do NOTHING."

     First, let me just say that the initial miracle of the moment was my acquiescence  I nodded and stopped arguing. And second, I had just been ordered to do Nothing. I gulped, remembering my request of the Lord. 

     
    The ambulance ride was the highlight of Princess's week. She squealed and smiled and put on the pulse monitor  and shouted, "GO! GO!" at the driver when we stopped at a red light. 
   "It's a stop light. We have to stop. It's best if other people stop too," I told her.
    She ignored me. "GO!"
  
     By the time we arrived in the E.R., she was a Queen. She rode in her carseat-upon-stretcher as if the parade of people were gathered in her honor. She waved and smiled and said, "HI!" to everyone we passed. The Medic and his associate were quick to commandeer toys and stickers for her once we were situated in our room. 
   The doctor poked and prodded. "Does this hurt?" he asked.
   "Everything hurts," I said.
   "Unfortunately, it will only become more sore over the next three days," he said. "You will need to rest."
   "I'm not great at that."
   "Well, your neck is going to be so stiff, you'll have to."
   "My neck!" I grabbed it. "But! I have to play the violin! On Friday!"
    "Uh..." he frowned. "I don't think that's happening."

     I racked my brain. What else had I prayed for? What other horror had I called down on my head? While I reviewed my petitions to God, the doctor turned to the girlie.

    "Hi!" Princess said.
    "How are you?" the doctor said.
    "Ah-boom-CRASH!" she told him.
    "I see." He offered his stethoscope. "May I listen to your belly?"
    "BELLY!" she lifted her dress.
    "And can we dance?"
    As he moved her arms all around, they performed a rousing rendition of the "ABC" song.
    "I think she's fine," he said. 
    "Yeah," I said. "I think she is." And a weight lifted from my shoulders.


    "And this medicine, you shouldn't drive if you're taking it," the nurse said, handing the prescription over. "And this medicine, I'm begging you not to drive." He looked at me. "No alcohol."
     "All right."
     "And this medicine will knock you right out."
     "Do I really need all of these?" I asked. "I'm sore, not dying."
     "Eh, better safe," he said. "You're going to get a lot more sore."
     "Okay."
     "I wouldn't take these two," he pointed, "until bed time. They'll make you sleep like a baby."
     "Sleep?" I stared at the paper. "Sleep? I'm going to sleep?"
   
    
     DH came to rescue us from the hospital, having fetched Spiderman from preschool and deposited him safely at a friend's house. "I cancelled my lessons!" I informed him proudly.
    "Good," he said. "I was going to cancel them if you hadn't."
    "And..." I took a deep breath. "And, the Lord has answered my prayers. I wanted a rest."
    "You're getting one," he said. "You're going home, and going to bed."
    "And," I bragged, "I didn't kill anyone for nearly hurting my baby. I wasn't even mad. I was just grateful to hold her. I've conquered my greatest fear!"
    "I'm very proud," he said.
    "And," I said, "I don't think I can do the concert this Friday. My neck is killing me."
    "Sounds reasonable," he said.
    "And," I handed the prescriptions over and beamed, "I'm going to sleep!"
    "That's all settled then," the dh said. "I got lunch."

     And so, with Bojangles iced tea between us, we went home. And I have been doing NOTHING ever since. I have not done laundry or dishes, and I thanked my husband for my dinner and my nap. In a moment, I am going to take the first of the medications that my Protestant pride insists I don't need, because my back disagrees.
    But before I slip into the land of muscle-relaxant-induced stupor, I wanted to relate the faithfulness of the Lord. He clothes the lilies and hears my prayers. Even more terrifying, He sees fit to answer me. I am thankful for His provision, grateful for His mercy, and bewildered by His methods.

   Call to Him, all you who are weary --  but don't stand near me when you do.
       Who knows what marvels may ensue?