It was the year 2012. We were cruising down the interstate at approximately 68 mph. Just another voyage in the family truckster. Chris, myself, Noah, Benjamin... and... the "siren". Our precious little girl had this horrible personality trait. She liked to cry. She cried here. She cried there. She cried every which where. She cried in the car. We weren't going far, but she didn't care. This trip happened to coincide with the very day that Chris and I had decided to put an end to our dependency on that terribly addictive suckling device: the pacifier. Having thrown them all away at home, I figured we were in the clear for fall backs. We were driving down the road, in ultimate agony, having listened to our little pumpkin's high pitched lamentations for far too long. This is when our defining moment was upon us. The great test of the wills, if you... will. It was at this moment that I recalled a hidden treasure in the ash tray. A doobie? A pair of ear plugs? An extra Vicodon? All would have been an enjoyable surprise. But, there sat, all clean and ready and waiting, like a soldier on the frontlines of battle: Lillian's. emergency. binky.
Chris's eyes met mine. One million scenarios flew through my tired and frazzled maternal brain. All of which left our little girl quietly suckling in her carseat. All of which left me, defeated and hoodwinked; taken advantage of in my weakness and my desire for a quiet, peaceful ride to Bass Pro Shop. I licked my lips and clenched my fists, gritted my teeth and steadied myself for defeat. But, there within me, a tiny flicker of light began to spread through my body and strengthen my defense. My withered grimace began to flatten and curl up into a smug little smile, as if I were enjoying an inside joke that only I knew the punch line to. I met Chris's eyes, and with that insane intimacy that only years of marriage can bring, we began to participate in one of our non-verbal conversations. He looked at the binky and then he looked at me. His eyebrows went up. My eyebrows stayed down... but then one started to quiver. My weakness was detected. With one last stern and animated facial disfigurement, my hand slammed down on the automatic window button! The window started going down and before I knew it, with great accuracy and incredible speed, I threw that binky right out the window! The scream flew from my lips as I saw it fly into the weeded ditch in my side mirror. It mutated into this crazy laugh, the kind that is usually accompanied by bad guy music. After many words from my little boys about how littering is naughty, our entire car was filled with laughter, and it was that laughter that quieted our little girl.
Don't we all have things like that in our lives? We have moments where we are presented with opportunities to display our strength and courage, stick to our guns, and do what we said we were going to do. It's pretty easy to reach for that emergency binky and let our desire for immediate relief take control of our decision making abilities. Granted, I wish all of our trials in life could be as innoscent and harmless as "The Great Binky Debacle". But, for the times when life presents us with challenges with a bit more meat on them, it's important that we reach inside of ourselves to stay the course and keep our eyes fixed on the strength that God has given to us. Don't take that next drink. Don't say those heated words. Don't eat that tenth oreo. Don't reach out for immediate relief. It is so fleating, and the effects can be devestating and last a lifetime. As it says in Isaiah 40:31, "but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles: they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." It is my prayer that this strength will be yours when you need it. For those defining moments, great and small.
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