My oldest son turned eleven two weeks ago and at his yearly check up we discovered he needed a booster shot. It was a major ordeal for him. Thankfully Dad had taken him to that appointment, so I missed out on all the drama then. But what's worse is that the doctor said Sam had lost six lbs, and needed to have some bloodwork done to rule out thyroid issues. I ended up being the one to take Sam to get his blood drawn. We had to go to Children's Hospital downtown. Thankfully no appointment was necessary and they are open late, so last night John kept the younger two while Sam and I went on our adventure.

It's hard to explain if you don't know my son, but he has a tendency to be a bit dramatic -- actually a lot dramatic. And maybe it looks like a big show to a stranger. And maybe it is a big show and I am just blind to his manipulation, but I don't think so. If it's possible to say that an eleven year old has panic attacks, that's exactly what happened the hour leading up to Sam's blood withdrawal. I kept telling him it was not going to be nearly as bad as he thought, but he wouldn't believe me. I told him he should trust me because I knew what it felt like, because I'd done it before and everything would be okay in the end.

God bless the nurse who finally got him to hold still and had great patience with him. Sam insisted on watching the needle go in, and the second it pierced his skin said, "oh, that really didn't hurt at all."

As we got on the elevator to leave, I told Sam I wanted to hear him say something to me. He said, "sorry." I told him that was nice, but it wasn't what I was looking for.

"I want you to say that I was right and you were wrong."


"I want you to remember this for next time. You've got to learn to trust me."

Then this morning I was praying and remembering some of my own middle of the night fears when I suddenly saw myself in Sam's shoes on the elevator. And I understood that God knows way more than me, and the comparison of Sam's knowledge to my own doesn't even begin to approach the discrepancy there is between my knowledge and God's.

So I had to tell Him that I too had been wrong. And I prayed once more, for faith to trust him, again.