Joy in Chaos

My baby girl is under-the-weather today, running a low fever. I'm not sure if it's a bug or just teething. She still hasn't gotten the rest of her incisors. You'd never know it by her personality. The girl has fangs. Unlike the rest of my children who respond to fevers with whining and lethargy she seems enraged. Anger at the pain, or anger at me for not relieving it, I'm not certain. Someone should tell her that piteousness would garner a better response. I don't know how to comfort her. She's an enigma this girl of mine. So different from I. So much spit and fire. I worry about her, and her ability to conform. "Gentle, Clara. Gentle." has become a mantra in our home.

She'll be good for my prayer life, that's for certain.

********************

"Should we name the bird, Ben?"

"Yes! Is it a girl or a boy?"

"Well, she's a mama bird, Boo. She must be a girl."

"Well we should name her Sara then. Like Sara from my school."

"Sounds good to me" I say, making a note to pay more attention to Sara from school the next time I am in his class.

And so our garage tenant was named. And everywhere we go, when Ben sees a small brown bird he thinks it's her. Instructing her to "Go home to your babies, Sara." Sara's eggs still have not hatched. Is it strange that I am worried about them? These tiny little adoptees in their speckled wombs. All around us, baby birds are emerging from their shells. Is it weird that I find myself fretting that ours may be too late? That maybe our constant peeking and prying has kept their mama away too much? I even find myself lying in bed at night worrying that Sara didn't make it back to her nest before we shut the garage door. Having to will myself not to go check on her like my own sleeping children.

Ridiculous. Right?

*******************
It's apparent that I fret far too much. I think that without genuine things to worry about I am now creating them.

"I've developed a new philosophy... I only dread one day at a time."
~Charlie Brown