I can only imagine what the neighbors must've thought. It's probably something somewhere in between "I didn't know the neighbor lady was into full contact wrestling!" and "Where's the phone number for Child Protective Services?"
It all started very innocently. I had been out walking with my son Andrew, soaking up the last few rays of sunlight on a summer evening. I tried to take him home for a bath, but he wasn't quite ready to go inside yet. I obliged him with a few more trips around the block, but then I insisted on going home. Tub time! This kid needed a good scrubbing.
Trying to get him through the front door was something like bathing a cat. The commotion is good for a few laughs, but somebody's gonna get scratched.
Andrew, who is fully mobile and strong as an ox, rides in a wheelchair when we are in public. He is autistic and has no sense of danger. If we didn't keep him safe in the chair, he would dart into traffic or jump into the nearest body of water.
I had parked the wheelchair in front of our porch and was busying myself with unbuckling his safety straps. Before I undid the last buckle, I went to the door to unlock it. The whole scene just went downhill from there.
He tried to wheel away.
I pulled the chair back. I opened the door locks, then undid his seatbelt.
He tried to bolt in the opposite direction.
I caught him and picked him up in a bad imitation of a football hold and took him up to the porch. I deposited him inside the front door, and he promptly escaped back on to the porch.
This little song and dance went on a few more times in a battle of sheer strengthor in my case, lack thereof. Arms were flailing, legs were flailing, sweat was flying! Finally I managed to muscle him into the house, where I locked the door behind him momentarily so I could wrangle the wheelchair up on to the porch.
Once the chair was on the porch, I unlocked the front door, only to have my son rush out while the chair tried to make its own hasty escape.
More wrestling ensued. To make a long story short (too late), Andrew eventually was brought safely into the house and was given the aforementioned bath. That was another wrestling match in and of itself.
As I put him in his pajamas, it dawned on me what God must go through with us. There He is, doing His best to keep us safe and clean, and there we are, trying to bolt into traffic to avoid having a bath!
God gives us boundaries for our own protection. Sometimes we will goof things up royally and make a mess of ourselves. Even then, there He is, waiting to cleanse us from our sins and errors.
Copyright Kristi Peifer, 2011.
I am a pastor's wife, the mother of two special needs children, a performer, and a lover of all things funny. My sincerest desires are to glorify Jesus Christ and to make someone laugh--preferably at the same time.
Visit me at www.neverkissatoaster.blogspot.com
Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com
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