Today's sermon was one of those that really hit home.

Literally,since I'm stuck at home (again).

I'm beginning to suspect that the baby picked up rotovirus...we're in yet another cycle of ups and outs, despite trying to avoid dairy (with the exception of the unfortunate but much delighted-in free cone day at Ben and Jerry's last week).

I've missed more church since the baby was born fourteen months ago than I ever have in my life (synagogue days included!). I'm feeling isolated and spiritually underfed/fellowshipped.

Bless my husband, he would let me go to church and stay home with poor Mr. Miserable, but there's a hitch. ALL he's tolerating is breastmilk.

I really don't mean for this to be a whine-fest. But given the forum, I would cheerfully say that I'm over it :-).

What I do mean to say is this. These are the moments when the rubber of my relationship with Christ hits the proverbial road.

Am I willing to die to self, even if it means there are mass quantities of bodily fluids involved?

Am I willing to offer my body as a living sacrifice...including multiple lactation sessions a day and multiple extra stores of fat that lactation seems to require of my body?

Am I willing choose the eternal perspective that sitting in a lovely home with a clinging (but sweet, warm and loving) toddler is NOT an undeserved death on a cross but rather a short season of my life? That I have not resisted temptation or faced persecution to the point of the shedding of my blood?

I can only say that I pray to prove myself worthy of the tasks set before me and take to heart the sermon presented today.

One wrapped in sweet fever-warmed baby flesh and size 4 Pampers.