Okay, so I don't know if God says "YEEEAAAHH!" But I like to think he does. Just like I like to think he gives high-fives in Heaven. (YES, this was a deep, theological discussion at work the other day. "Do you think God gives high fives?" Because these are the kinds of things we think about. I KNOW. WE ARE SO DEEP.)
I digress. (I was going for a "deep, meaningful post" with this one, but let's be honest. I am neither deep nor meaningful.)
But this tweet was:
At least, for me it was. Because when I started Survival Mode Parent, this was exactly what I had in mind. Laundry! Toilets! Mail! Lawn! Stuff I can do for people who can't wrap their mind around fabric softener because their kid is fighting for his life.
But I'll be honest. I haven't had a lot of time for SMP lately. All of the legal stuff is hovering in my mind and in my bank account like Thestrals. (Yes, that was for you, Jess.)
I know I should be filling out paperwork to get everything in order for the incorporation and tax-deductible status, especially when I've generously been given the resources to just do it already. I know I should be recruiting more volunteers so I can better serve the needs of parents, wherever they are. And I know I should be sending stuff to hospitals so they can tell the parents that there is help for them out there.
But then there's that pesky full time job, and being a co-captain of my BikeMS Team, and being an Awana leader, and the blog design orders, three CTs, and oh yeah, am I married to somebody or something too?
I don't list these things to complain, because really, I wouldn't trade them for anything. Every single one of those activities is something I'm wildly passionate about (minus the blog orders, which I could take or leave, though I suspect that if I left I'd have quite a few angry bloggers waiting for their orders... even longer!)
My point is, when it comes right down to it, I don't have a kid in the hospital (and never have). Or a special needs kid. Or a kid at all. I don't have a heck of a lot that I have to worry about, when you really think about it.
But somebody out there can't even think about their laundry.
And that kind of puts it in perspective, doesn't it?