When I was very sick at the airport on the return from Germany, a few people stopped to see if I needed anything...not many, but a few. One woman in particular was a saint. She had two little boys with her and they were waiting for their former au pair who was coming for a visit. She saw me puking my guts up in a trash can at the busiest part of the airport and came to check on me. She bought me a bottle of water and stood with me for a while. (Her little one was precious - even in my haze - he keep asking me why I was sick.)
Any way, I kept thinking about what made her stop and look after me. Strong maternal draw, feeling sorry for me, setting a good example for her kids, maybe she was a Christian? I have no idea.
As I passed my germs on to the rest of my family and I was up almost all night a couple of nights later, I started thinking about why I was staying up. What really was my motive? Was that what Randy was talking about? Was I up because I was the mom or because I felt guilty that I gave them the bug? Maybe I just wanted to be seen as being the martyr? I moved on to what should be my motive - yes, I had time to think about it even though I was really, really tired.
We're to do all things for the glory of our Father. I'm not really sure why I was up serving them. Maybe it was because I really didn't have a choice, but maybe at least I started realizing there was a higher calling and motivation. Isn't the first step realizing you a have problem or in this case, a motivation you didn't recognize?
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