That sums up my feelings last night at 2:00 am towards God. Isabella woke up at 2:00 with an asthma attack. It's not enough the poor girl is just getting over pneumonia, so let's just throw an asthma attack on her tired body during the middle of the night. Sounds like a good plan to me. So, after puffs on the rescue inhaler (which didn't touch it), cough drops, cough syrup, water, propped up pillows and who knows what else was being tried - I prayed, I cried out to God - please take this away from her, stop the attack and let her little body rest. Well, he didn't answer my prayer when I wanted - which was immediatly....now.
So, I laid in bed listening to Isabella cough and cough and then tell her Daddy "it's ok, I'm feeling better" for well over an hour. When He *could* have healed her - immediatly, right then and there. He would have been given the glory - I promise.
When Steve went to get her some more water I told him I was so angry at God right then. He tried explaining to me we don't know how God works, the timing of his plan - we just have to continue to trust him. Um, not what I wanted to hear at 3:oo am. I wanted him to be mad with me.
So, this morning when I woke I just accepted the peace in knowing and believing He *can* heal instantly. Maybe that is enough.
We let Isabella sleep in today and I drove her to school instead of having her ride the bus and Steve took Ava to preschool. She seemed to feel better but I'll spend the day second guessing whether I should have made her stay home another day.
P.S. - spare me the nasty grams in knowing things could be worse than an asthma attack at 2:00 am - I KNOW life could be worse. :(
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