Hell Week for the Goose

“I do not believe in God, because I do not believe in Mother Goose.” Clarence Darrow

Perhaps Clarence was confused about the reality of Mother Goose. He was definitely confused about God. But even Mother Goose who has abundant faith, hope and love is at a loss for an explanation when it comes to the events of this past week. Let’s reflect together for just a few minutes about the Hell Week of a Goose.

On Monday, the youngest of the goslings mentioned that she felt something was in her eye. Mother Goose looked and saw nothing.

On Tuesday, the child’s eyelid was puffed up like a cumulus cloud. Mother Goose ran to her medicine cabinet and pulled out two ophthalmic products — a small bottle of eye drops and a tube of neomycin ointment (an antibiotic). She dutifully applied both products to the right eye of the child. Within an hour, the pupil in the child’s right eye was completely dilated. The puffiness had not diminished.

Not my daughter’s eye, but definitely a dilated pupil.

Well, how strange, thought Mother Goose. “Let’s just go to sleep now, and I’m sure you’ll be fine tomorrow morning for the first day of school.”

And, of course, in the morning, the eye was puffier than ever and the pupil was still dilated. The brave child went off to school anyway, leaving Mother Goose at home to Google this problem, and to make an appointment with the doctor. The antibiotic cream was fine, according to Google. Mother Goose now googled the name of the prescription eyedrops, Atropine. “A very strong medicine for dilating the pupil, used primarily for glaucoma patients, people with bleeding eyes and dogs with eye infections…”

Yes, our dog had used these drops in her eyes just a few months ago for her eye infection.

Oh, Mother Goose…

Four days later, my daughter’s pupil is nearly back to its normal size and activity.

Oh, Mother Goose…

Also this week, the husband of Mother Goose was the subject of a dental procedure — the extraction of his abscessed molar.

The molar of husband Goose didn’t look this good…

On the same day, one of the goosemobiles suffered a meltdown, requiring a $500 repair at the Pep Boys.

They do everything for less…

Another of the goslings accidentally smashed his arm into a door, requiring a trip to the Emergency Room at our local hospital. The poor fellow cracked it so terribly hard that he couldn’t straighten it out. The good folks at West Suburban Medical Center took a few xrays and determined that the arm was neither broken nor dislocated, only horribly bruised.

We’ve been here several times over the years…

Whew… it’s been just awful for Mother Goose who was crying and honking all at the same time.

Did I mention that I also sliced a huge chunk out of my index finger as I washed the perpetual dishes one morning?

Do you ever have days like these? Do you ever just want to throw your wings up in the air and give up? Do you shake your fist at the heavens and swear revenge on the universe? Have you ever just wanted to go back to bed and start the week all over again?

Mother Goose shed her fair share of tears this week in the course of these light and momentary struggles and trials. There was even a bit of shouting in our normally peaceful nest. Yes, shouting. Can you even imagine?

But whether we believe in Mother Goose or in God, either or both, here’s the eventual outcome:

Each of us survived our personal battles this week. Each of us has made it to Friday night, pretty much intact. We are weary of the Hell Week and hope that tomorrow and the next day will be better, but deep within each of us is the truth that no matter what problems we face, what fears we have, no matter if the incorrect eye drops have been placed in our eyes, it’s gonna be OK.

When we get to the other side of Hell Week, we are full of hope that we can probably get through anything. There is much grace in Hell Week. It’s gonna be OK.

It’s one of the favorite sayings of Mother Goose — she knows it’s true because she lives it out every day.

It’s gonna be OK. Really!

Dusty Is Walking

My nephew, Dusty the Hero Dog, is recovering nicely from his recent calamity with the “too fast for the conditions” driver.

The brave little hero…

I was thinking this morning of the many accidental injuries and personal traumas that the children of Mother Goose have endured over the years. The broken bones and concussions, the horrifying gashes in their skin, the times when they became lost, the corrective surgeries and the trips to the ER.

Omigooseness, being a parent is the toughest job on the planet!

We need nerves of steel and faith of the saints to survive the trials and tribulations of our children. What mom or dad hasn’t shed vast volumes of tears for their injured child? What parent has not blamed themselves for their babies accidents? Even if we have been the most cautious and careful moms, the kids will certainly find ways to get hurt, won’t they?

Mother Goose knows this all too well.

Many of my readers have noticed my bony and calloused knees.

Omigooseness those knees are knobby!

They ask me, “Mother Goose, it seems that you might be a floor-scrubbing maid with knees like that?”

With my smile firmly in place, I tell them that I am a mother. And yes, I do occasionally scrub the kitchen floor but these knees have attained an attitude of knobbiness from spending time in prayer. Yes, Mother Goose prays for her children on her knees! There is no better way to reach the heights of heaven than by kneeling before God in the solitude of my prayer closet.

Every child and probably every pet needs our protection and our prayers.

Here’s a hip hip hooray for Dusty and his parents who are taking really good care of him and trusting God to keep him safe and well! They are a real blessing!

Important Stats for a Goose

  • 77,493 honks to date

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May 2022
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