Today’s Five Minute Friday prompt is the word, ONE. You can link up or read other writers’ thoughts on this word here.
A few days ago, I went in to my oldest daughter Noelle’s bedroom to get her out of bed. When I held her to my chest, I could hear little wheezes and pops deep in her lungs. I knew her snotty-nosed cold got pushed down overnight. As I collected the tubing and the medicine for her nebulizer, my baby, Autumn, woke up. After a strong quiet time with God that morning, I was ready for this. I had read an encouraging chapter in Colossians and had a great time journaling and praying. I scooped up my baby and brought her into Noelle’s room. I sat on the floor nursing Autumn while Noelle sat in her rocking chair next to me, and I held Noelle’s mask during her breathing treatment. I felt like Wonder Woman. Serene and strong. Fast forward ten hours. My husband and I had been downstairs for about an hour when I decided to go upstairs and check on Noelle since she’d been bouncing in her bed for the last fifteen minutes. I opened the door and it reeked of poop. I flicked on the light. My nose wasn’t wrong. Poop was smeared everywhere. All down her legs. All up her arms. All over her bed sheets. On the neck straps and the leg openings of the swimming suit that she’d pulled on over her diaper. I flipped out. No longer was I Wonder Woman. I was a raving mad, barking Chihuahua. As I laid in bed that night next to my husband, our girls were both tucked in to clean beds, and all was right, for that one moment.