God's Worn Out Servants Read online

shirt, covered with my blood. I wondered how bad my hand had been cut.

  “Did you call an ambulance?” I asked Richard, thinking of the baby.

  “They’re on their way. Are you all right? What happened to you?”

  “Kallie’s little baby…” was all I could eek out. I closed my eyes and prayed with an urgency that pained my heart. I prayed hard. I knew Kallie was praying too. We had been too busy for Jesus. Would He be too busy for us?

  I heard the man say the baby was breathing steadily, and Richard escorted me into the restroom to wash up. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later, and we watched them load the precious bundle into the back. I didn’t know what would happen to Kallie or her baby. Would he live? Would Child Services take him away? Everyone was whispering, no doubt forming their own opinions of who was to blame. I told pastor I wouldn’t be teaching Sunday school anymore on the way out.

  I’m sure there were all kinds of speculations why Kallie left Seth in the car alone for hours. I was thankful once again the weather was cooler than usual; I’d seen the temperature reach close to one hundred degrees that time of year. I knew why it happened. She was too busy. Pastor said the kingdom needed workers, but I couldn’t believe God would approve of us being busy the way we were.

  I knew it could have just as easily have happened to me; I could’ve put my children in danger because my mind was elsewhere. I was too busy to study the Bible, too busy to pray, too busy to stop and invite someone to church. If we didn’t have time for God, and we forgot about our families when they needed us the most, what good were we?

  I couldn’t remember the last time I really put together a good Sunday school lesson. I didn’t know who would teach the class, but I knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I prayed for God to send someone else. I had tried many things to free myself from the burden of a too-tight schedule, but never once thought to pray about it. I had to believe God would help me fix it.

  I cried all the way to the hospital. We left the kids with the pastor and his wife, and Richard drove. While my hand hurt, all my thoughts were on baby Seth, and the guilt and shame Kallie would feel if he didn’t live. How do you forget your own child? Then I felt a slice of that same guilt and shame myself. I remembered how easily it could have been me. I remembered instances when I’d had face-to-face conversations with people I didn’t even remember because I was so tired—and with what, ball practice, or dance? I remembered a time when I’d driven the kids to school, then got home and realized Sarah’s car-seat wasn’t even fastened to the car. I was too busy to realize; I’d forgotten to check.

  I sat quietly while the doctor put seven stitches in my right hand. It was so swollen I couldn’t close my fingers and I wondered how the stitches could still fit when the swelling subsided. When the doctor and his nurse left the room I began crying again. I felt Richard’s hand on my back and heard him sigh heavily. He never knew what to say in emotional situations.

  “It could’ve been us, Richard,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean? You’d never leave our kids in the car.”

  “It was an accident. She didn’t mean to do it. She was too busy—just like me.”

  “What do you mean, too busy?”

  “I’m running from daylight till dark every day of the week. I’m not even allowed to get sick. It’s too much, Richard. Something bad is going to happen if I don’t slow down. This is my wake-up call.”

  He could tell by the look on my face I was serious. I reserved that look for special occasions.

  “Okay, we’ll figure something out,” he said and helped me off the examination table.

  It’s been a few years now, and Seth is doing well. Kallie lost him for a while. There was an investigation, but she got him back soon after. She and Jason had to move. There was too much talk, and not enough understanding.

  Richard helped me arrange a carpool for Evan’s practices and he took on the yard work again. I don’t teach Sunday school anymore, but I formed a women’s Bible study group in my home that meets every week.

  We take turns watching the younger kids so everyone can have a chance to participate. It’s helped me to form new relationships and because it’s held outside the church, it’s become a funnel to bring new visitors to church. They come to my home and meet with other women who love to chat, and drink sweet tea, and read the Bible together. When they grow comfortable with the group they come to church with us. There are lots of people to help out now, and I don’t miss teaching the kids a bit. This is where I belong because this is where God has led me. I never would have known that if I hadn’t picked up the Bible and just flat out asked Him. Now I make time to read God’s word and talk with Him, and it’s my goal to lead others to the same.

  In the end what will it matter how many church services we attended, or how many church offices we held? Will we be graded on how much money we gave at the church fund raiser? Or will He say, you were very busy but why didn’t you make time for me? This is what I remind myself, when deciding what I give my time to. After all, time is the most valuable gift we can give.

  Tattie Maggard is a stay at home wife and mother. She runs a popular blog for avid readers. She lives in rural Missouri where the chickens and black bears play in the yard. You can visit her website at https://www.TattieMaggard.com

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