Wednesday, November 28, 2007
When my big kids were little, the word "supermom" became a new word in the world's vocabulary. It was my quest in life to one day own that crown and scepter! Kayla was born on a Friday. On Saturday morning we left the hospital, went to the mall for a couple of hours, then to another store and finally rolled into Snyder right in time for Kyle's soccer game. When she was 10 days old, Adam fell and broke his leg. He was almost three years old and, with that body cast, weighed about 100 pounds. My daddy brought me a refrigerator dolly and let me borrow their car with a hatchback. I would prop him up on the dolly, roll him to the car, lift the hatchback and lay him in the back. We didn't miss church, a soccer game, or one of Kayla's feedings. As the boys grew, they both loved baseball and I was their pitcher. I noticed when Kyle was in the 2nd grade he didn't ask me to pitch as much. I asked him to go out one day to play and he told me I couldn't throw hard enough. I was a little sad and a little relieved, because they were beginning to throw pretty hard. They all got bigger, had more games, events, and eventually three little sisters. They had their own little cheerleading squad. We took the girls to everything, knowing how important family is.
Now with just the three younger ones in the house, I hadn't thought of the "supermom" thing in awhile. Until the other day when Leah ran into the house to tell me there was a snake outside. A bolt of fear quickly ran through my short body as I realized I was the adult in the house. It was the day before Thanksgiving and I knew all the kids would be in that night. Kyle hates snakes and Adam hates spiders. Kayla hates both. When I know they are coming, I make a concerted effort to rid the premises of anything that could possibly resemble either of the two. The fear in me turned into adrenaline, and I ran out and grabbed the shovel. I raised that thing high above my head and came flat down on that snake. That booger turned back and looked right at me. Scared me to death. The shovel came down again. And again. And again. I honestly don't know how many times I hit that serpent. I was in a frenzy. I had to save my home.
When I was positive it had gone to be with the Lord, if that is where snakes go, I picked it up with the shovel and was going to throw it in the pasture. With all my might, I twisted back with the shovel to sling it as far as I could. It hit the tree right in front of me. Reminded me of my cheerleading days when we threw the little footballs up in the stands. My daddy asked me to never stand in front of their section because he knew if I did he would never get a ball. I would hit the fence in front of me, I believe now it was because of the "follow-through". Sometimes I could get it up to the second or third row. Anyway, back to the snake. I threw it so hard it wrapped around a vine and just hung there dripping blood. Not looking at me any longer. That evening after the kids were here I went outside and called the boys over to the tree. They both (approximately 480 pounds) drove up in the girls little go-cart. Envision the Incredibles, if you would. I showed them my trophy snake, much like David probably did with that melon trophy head of Goliath that he took back and placed at the Jerusalem city limit sign. I, like David, had defeated the enemy. The boys thought it was quite funny, I was quite proud. The enemy had gone down. That snake is now a symbol for all other snakes to know this is protected property. Tremble snakes, tremble! They can't pass through our place any time they please. Not this place. No enemies allowed here.
I haven't always done the MOM thing right. I've made many mistakes. There have been times, though, that I fought off the enemy successfully with the Word of God. I know the importance of that now more than ever before. If I take that job seriously, protecting my family, through prayer, from the evil one, there could one day be a crown and scepter set aside for "Supermom - Snake Killer".