“Oofy saved my life.”
It took a few repetitions before we understood what our almost-three-year-old was telling us. Oofy the cat (named, like all our felines, for a P.G. Wodehouse character)had saved her life.
“How did Oofy save your life?”
“He ate the gopher.”
At this point we all burst into laughter because as far as we could tell, the gopher hadn’t been threatening Mary Kate’s life in the least. And furthermore, the gopher had been long dead when Oofy ate him. If there was any life saving going on, it had been done by Mary Kate’s daddy, who had taken a shovel to the gopher since Oofy was nowhere to be found when the gopher was seen walking through the yard. (Misplaced, no doubt, by the two little girls who were delightedly digging in the pile of dirt they’d found in the yard.)
Regardless, we’ve heard again every day this week the story of how Oofy saved Mary Kate’s life..
A question used as an illustration in a book. The inspiration for one mom’s few moments of writing, stolen between work and home. A springboard for a whole synchroblog of posts.
And I started thinking. About Mary Kate and Oofy and the gopher. About Jesus’ blood that saved me. And about all the little things that remind me of His goodness, His saving grace, moment by moment, day by day.
Yesterday’s moments of writing before I tended to the crush of the inbox and the feeds and the comments. An afternoon spent completing a project for next week. The way I thrive on creativity and new ideas and words, always more words.
A whole entire night of sleep without anyone waking in the middle. The irrigation cycle being complete which means my husband didn’t have to rush out to the fields first thing. His voice washing me with the water of the Word this morning while I lay beside him, nursing our youngest. Our girls piling into bed with us, one after another, well before their 8 a.m. get-up time.
Long slow kisses standing in front of a produce cooler, stolen in the moments my husband and I were both at work with no customers. Bright flowers out the window. Iced coffee. Pizza for dinner tonight. With fresh tomato sauce. That my sister is making right now.
My sister. She is the one saving my life this summer.
She does my laundry and my dishes. She’s the only reason I’ve gotten any projects done. She doesn’t let me help in the kitchen, telling me to go do something I need to do. She loves my clothesline and she loves my kids and she’s there spending time with both while I’m at work.
She is the only reason I can remember at 9:35 a.m. that I was supposed to pack a lunch and can whip up a cucumber, cream cheese, basil, and tomato wrap leaving all the pieces on the counter (and the floor, thanks to my son’s help) as she walks in and I walk out the door. She’s the only reason my kids aren’t dragged out the door every single morning when I go to work, but can instead play and take naps at home.
She’s the only way my daughter has been on a gluten-free, dairy-free elimination diet this summer (and that rash? it’s finally, finally gone!). And cookies? We’re never without them. (Gluten-free cookies, at that!) She’s even doing her best to save my waistline by telling me about these 5-minute exercise routines she sees on Pinterest. (Now if only she would make me do them, too.)
She’s the only reason the laundry gets not only washed, but folded. She even cleans my bathroom. She bathes the kids at night and puts them in their pajamas. She gathers the eggs and she loves to mow the lawn. She frees me up not only to do the bill-paying and the advertising and the working our summers are so full of, but she has given me the gift of being able to keep pursuing the words and projects I love in the midst of the busyness. (She even helps me brainstorm and listens to my random ideas!)
So maybe the quiet moments and the words flowing out my fingertips and the ideas swirling in my head are making me feel alive. But it’s my sister who’s doing the saving.
Thank you, sis. I love you.