Desperate Times Call for Desperate Messages

Desperation happens at least twice a week, maybe more.

I mean, I love my sweet girls, but counting to 15 a billion times or rehashing the ABCs repeatedly can get a bit…well, suffocating. Monotonous at best.

It’s wonderful, no doubt. And I love getting to be the one who’s there with them doing these things. Being present in their lives. Helping them grow and learn. Witnessing each new level of development, every lightbulb moment.

But there are times when those things are suffocating. Like I need something deeper. Something with more meaning.

Something like another adult.

In those moments, the craving for another adult is so intense—so real—I can feel it moving beneath my skin. It rises to my throat and squeezes, crushing my windpipe until I fear I may not be able to breathe without it.

“Hey daddy! How’s your day treating you?”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sent that message to my husband, either by text or voicemail.

It’s a flare signal. A plea for my most trusted ally to come to my rescue. To offer me an air bubble, however small, before I have to dive back beneath the waves. To give me just one detail—one syllable, even—from someone whose wisdom has matured a bit more than my three-year-old’s.

Waiting for his response is agonizing. Those long, drawn-out rings on the other end of the line. The blank, lifeless text message screen. My flare signal fizzling out, unnoticed.

And then it happens.

Those three gray dots start wiggling beneath my text message or “The Hubs” pops up on my phone. And even though I’ve been swept away in a tidal wave of temper tantrums and dirty diapers, someone has noticed me. Seen me. Heard my call for help. Someone has seen my distress and started to respond.

In that moment, hope eases the panic and I can finally breathe.

But it occurs to me that I rarely, if ever, send God a quick text message. During my panic-stricken moments, I find that I am desperate for my husband, not my Father. That I mistakenly view my husband as my most trusted ally—the one who will rescue me from drowning—instead of my Savior.

And yet, God is readily available the moment I say His name.

With Him, there are no unanswered ringtones, no lifeless screens.

There’s only rescue.


1 Comments on “Desperate Times Call for Desperate Messages”

  1. Dear Kelsey:I am happy you realize that Our Lord is THE ONE to give you the help you need. However, our Lord uses “human” to provide His help.My advice for you and Kyle is to find a voluntary and trustable adult that can babysit your children while the two of you get in your car and drive away for 8-10 hrs, while watching the sceneries, eating anything you like (but the 2 of you alone), sharing with each other the beauties given to the two of you by our Lord, and then,come back home full of joy and desire to hug, kiss, and play with your children. It worked for us many times and now after 51 yrs we smile (sometimes laugh) at those times similar to the one you described today.With all our love to you and Kyle,YBIC & AMDGMartinPS-Your writing style, as usual, is phenomenal. I envy you.

    Liked by 1 person

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