I’m sitting on an empty bed in the hushed dark of A Ward at two in the morning. The babies are sleeping, and I thought I’d take a minute to type. I’ll admit something right out of the gate here; I came to work tonight with a bad attitude. This is the last of three night shifts, and knowing that this ward is populated mostly with babies, all of whom have upper respiratory tract infections, I was dreading my shift. Babies with colds are never really pleasant; add a kilo or two of plaster to their little legs, and you’ve got a surefire recipe for sleepless nights.The rest of the night was spent with Anointed snuggled in my arms. It didn't even bother me when he threw up all down the front of my scrubs. Come five o'clock, when there was work to be done, I rolled his mother over, took her lappa and strapped him squarely on my back. He stayed there until it was time to give report, drooling and coughing into my shoulderblade, little toes poking out from either side of my hips. (For the first time, the other mamas didn't readjust him, telling me instead that he sit fine there. There's hope for my baby-wearing skills after all.)
I’m not saying I can’t sympathize, because loving on one too many sick babies means that I’ve also fallen victim to the virus. My head is pounding, my nose is running, and my energy level is hovering somewhere around twenty percent. Suffice it to say, I started the shift a little short of patience.
By eleven, most of the kiddos are usually tucked in and sleeping soundly. Tonight, just like every night so far, Anointed defied all my efforts. I gave him his medications. I snuggled him closer to his mama. I got him a clean diaper. And still he screamed. I had decided somewhere during my first night that Anointed and I weren’t destined to be friends. Because this wasn’t a scream of pain. It was a cranky, irritable, I-hate-everything-and-everyone-around-me scream. And it was getting on my already-frayed nerves in a bad way.
Somewhere around one o’clock, I had had enough. Anointed’s mother was sleeping soundly next to her wailing child while all the other babies on the ward were starting to join in with a chorus of their own shrieks. Frustrated with his mother’s lack of parenting skills, annoyed at his cries and just wanting him to stop, I grabbed him out of bed and carried him out into the hall. The crying got louder, and I immediately started to doubt my decision.
But I’m stubborn. Just about as stubborn as they come. And I refused to let this little ball of screaming fury get the better of me. I paced and rocked and sang until, all at once, he nestled his head in under my chin and stopped his crying. Moments later, the sudden weight of him told me that he had given up the fight and was asleep.
We’re sitting together on this bed right now, his small body splayed across my chest. His almond eyes are squeezed shut, and his curly little mohawk is soft under my chin. And my whole perspective on this night has been turned end over end. I just realized that I came to work tonight looking for a fight, waiting for things to go wrong, expecting to have a rough shift. Really, all I should have been looking for was the next baby who needed to be loved on. Amazing what a little reality check can do for your state of mind.
So Anointed and I are going to hang out here for a while. And when Johnson wakes up and starts screaming (like he’s bound to do any minute now), I’m going to summit my next mountain.
I just keep thinking about it all. About how different last night was from the two before it. Changing my attitude meant I could get out of my own way and just love. For all I've been learning about love during the last few months, you'd think this lesson wouldn't have been so long in coming. After all, for as long as I remember, I've been repeating the mantra after Uncle Russ: I refuse to have a bad day.
Jesus said it best himself.
The Father loves me, and so I love you. Live in my love. Make it your home, make it your place of being. If you follow my example and do what I'm telling you to do, it won't be so hard. See? I've followed my Father all along, and I'm resting firmly in His love. And you know why I'm telling you this, right? Because if you can get this, if you can just love, then you will be filled with a joy so complete and so full it doesn't seem possible this side of heaven. So just love. Love each other like I've loved you. That's all. (John 15)Every time I let myself be annoyed with the petty little frustrations that make up a day, I'm really just shooting myself in the heart. Because I'm missing out on love, and I'm missing out on joy. And that's just stupid.
As soon as I'm feeling better, I'm going to go try and make friends with Johnson.
