Funny thing about being sick – it offers you a new perspective on what it means to feel good.
How often have I looked at the laundry piles (dirty or clean) and felt overwhelmed, just wishing I could ignore them and instead go lay down, cozy up, and read a good book – or maybe even take a little nap? How many times have I stared at the menu plan, thinking that the meals sounded good, but just longing for the food to somehow magically prepare itself so I wouldn’t have to do it? How often have I just wished for a little break from the noise and needs of the kids? Don’t the boys see their daddy standing right there, available to answer their questions? Why is it that the first word out of their mouths is usually, “MOM!” when someone has a bloody finger or when there is another brotherly quarrel?
I just wish, sometimes. I just wish I could have a break from all the responsibilities, duties, thinking, planning, solving, and doing.
Be careful what you wish for.
Not that taking breaks is a bad thing. Taking time to be refreshed and renewed is a wise thing indeed.
But give me just a few days in bed, sick and unable to care for my family – and I am quickly able to realize the significance of my role, and more importantly, my desire to fulfill it. I loved how Matt stepped right up to do everything that needed to be done, both his jobs and mine. He gave our kids the instructions of “don’t bother Mom”, and sweet boys that they are, they obeyed. I didn’t have to answer their questions, help solve their arguments, read to them, or bandage their wounds. I was not in charge of the meals, I did not wash any dishes. Matt and all the boys worked together to clean the kitchen. The laundry was done by our eleven year old. Our oldest answered the phone and helped his younger brother with math questions.
All while I laid there and did nothing. I read a book, I watched some movies, and I slept. I was served breakfast in bed, and even had a bath drawn for me. Ah, it was a life of luxury, let me tell you. Except for the part with the fever and splitting headache.
It didn’t take me long to recognize how much I truly love taking care of my family. (Sounds cheesy? Yeah, well. Lying abed in a mountain of dirty kleenexes makes me reflective and sentimental. I can’t help it.)
Feeling healthy enough to fold laundry, wash some dishes, and cook a meal is truly a great blessing – not something that should be taken for granted.
Kind of makes you look at that muddy floor with a new appreciation, doesn’t it? ;)
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