I Come By It Naturally

Heredity is something I do not now, nor ever will understand.


I know that I got my height, all Five-Feet-Four-and-One-Half-Inches of it, from my mother's side of the family. We're little, but we're MIGHTY.

And I got my girth, all One-Hundred-and-You're-Nuts-If-You-Think-I'm-Actually-Going-to-Confess-How-Much-More from my father's side of the family. Let's just say that I'm about as wide as I am tall and leave it at that.

Another thing that was passed down from Mom's side of the family was a tendency toward what we politely call a "weak stomach." You may have heard the phrase "gag at a gnat and swallow a camel" at some point. For Mom, Sister and me, it becomes "gag at a gnat and anything else you can think of." Let me elaborate.

Whenever anyone even mentions or even thinks about mentioning anything that has to do with certain substances one would eliminate from one's nose when one has a cold, our reflexes set in. With a vengeance. The word "sn_t" is not even in my vocabulary. Really.

A few years ago, Mom and Sister read Frank McCourt's first book. In it, there's a part where the father has to perform a suction of sorts on the baby's nose to keep it from suffocating. (Honest to Pete, I'm suffering regurgitative spasms just thinking about it.) They both tried to explain it to me, but neither of them could because they kept gagging between words. I laughed and laughed at them. Then I read it for myself.

No comedic sketch would ever be able to do it justice.

I found myself gagging as well, but I couldn't put the book down. So I'd read a line or two, gag a while, read a line or two, gag some more, read a line, gag....you get the picture.

I am nothing if not addicted to good literature.

It actually becomes quite embarrassing at times. A friend of mine once told me a story of when he was a child. He and his sister were always at odds growing up. One day he came home from school and saw a cookie on the floor next to his sister, who was watching television at the time. He asked her if he could have it, and without turning her head she told him he could. He scooped it up in his hand, preparing to take a big bite.

That was when he found out the dog had vomited on the floor.

When he told me this, I literally could not stop. The retching, it could be heard for miles.

I could regale you with more stories of this weakness, but in the interest of my own physical well-being, I will not. Suffice it to say that the entertainment value of this trait cannot be measured in mere currency.

And then I had children.

For some reason, God, in His Infinite Wisdom, gave me some much-needed grace. I found myself able to deal with any and all of the gory details of raising children without losing my lunch. I could change diapers of any sort, wipe runny noses, even clean up puke - without tossing my cookies. It was amazing. But it only works with small babies and my children.

God knew that the little beings entrusted to my care needed me to be strong for them. He knew that I couldn't do it on my own, so He gave me the ability to handle what I never thought I could. It was a gift, pure and simple.

Even though I still suffer from the "weak stomach syndrome" I can tell you this: God is good. He provides. He makes us strong in weakness. I never really understood the verse that way before, but I can tell you it's true.

It's our inheritance from Him.

2 Corinthians 12:10

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.