victory.

This morning I woke up, ate some breakfast and read some Ephesians, got ready and took off for the doctors. My dad was all worried that I wouldn't know how to get there (which I didn't), so he called several times and ended up having me follow him to the pediatricians. That's right, folks. I still go to my pediatricians. I'm almost Ross. Not really -- it's just how my parents' insurance is working out right now. Know what the great thing about the pediatricians is? The nurses treat all people, babies and adults alike, as though they are delicate little sweethearts. Luckily, I AM a delicate little sweetheart. It works out. And when I say "delicate little sweetheart," I mean "wimpy little scaredy-cat." Just kidding. Kind of. Not really.

To some people, this might sound like an overstatement, but God really, really provided at the doctor's today. I didn't burst into tears, I didn't feel woozy, I didn't have to compose myself before the eye-test -- nothin.' It was like God was literally filling me with joy. When the sweet woman with the cute accent came in the door with two shots, I closed my eyes and said, "Okay. So I'm really scared. So I'm just going to close my eyes and you tell me when it's over." She paused and said, "Do you want the numb-bing spa-ray?" "... what?" "Numb-bing spa-ray. It will make your arm numb." "... oh. Oh! Yes. Sure." So she brings in the numb-bing spa-ray and I closed my eyes and it was over before I could say lickity split. I walked out of the doctor's office with my typhoid pills, a smile on my face, and a worship song in my throat. I have never EVER felt that way at the doctor's office, even for a routine checkup. Shoot, I'll get shots for Jesus anytime. Bring 'em. Jesus gave me the Holy Spirit.