Look and See

March is the month we northerners like to “think Florida.” After wintertime, whether severe or mild, the thought of replacing naked grey trees with green palms is enticing. Both Nate and I grew up in nuclear families that piled into the family sedan and headed south about this time of year, making the long, slow road trip part of the vacation fun.

Then Nate and I took our first couple-trip to Florida before we had children, staying with college friends in Reddington Beach. And after children, we locked onto a tradition that carried on for decades, driving a minivan full of kids and blow-up toys to Sanibel Island every spring.

When our Linnea found her true love in a family that had lived in Florida for several generations, we had another good reason to head to the land of orange trees and shell beaches. This week, we’re back again, at least Birgitta, Emerald, and I are. We’ve been hanging with Adam, Linnea, Skylar (4), Micah (3), and Autumn (1), though it’s been far from ideal.

All 3 children have been sick, starting with ear-aches, then upper respiratory infections, moving into hacking coughs, followed by severe pink eye, fevers, vomiting, and finally head colds. Part of living in sick bay all week has also been the struggle to get necessary medicines into these little people, stretching creativity and sometimes patience to the limit.

Though we’ve kept face-washing cloths separate, the children have shared their sicknesses anyway. That is, all except 4-month-old Emerald. Our additional challenge has been to keep her disease-free, and with all the juicy coughing and sneezing going on, that hasn’t been easy.

Raising children can be demanding, but this complex week has been over-the-top. So why did God allow such an assault all at once, and during the week of our vacation? Why did he ask so much of these young parents? Is it simply a forced learning of sacrifice? Or maybe his insistence that they give more than they get? Or even a test about putting others ahead of themselves?

I think it’s something different than all that. Every parenting struggle is an opportunity to search for God, who buries himself like hidden treasure within the details of difficulty. There’s a verse in Isaiah that I used to read negatively: “Truly you are a God who has been hiding himself.” (45:15) But could it be he hides in order to see who will work to find him?

During a week of swollen eyes, runny noses, and tear-stained cheeks, I’ve found him in several places: in the ever-expanding patience of Adam and Linnea; in the way a very sick Micah rested his head on my shoulder during story time; in Skylar’s thoughtfulness as she faithfully covered her cough while close to the baby; and in God’s gifts of grace to endure the assault of diseases he allowed.