Tending the Buds
The stomach flu claimed another victim in our house last night.
When I was in the throes of agony earlier this week, I prayed that Chris and the girls wouldn’t get it. I couldn’t bear the thought of them feeling so miserable. The fever. The dehydration. The sweats. The pain.
And yet it happened. One by one. And it was worse than I even imagined.
Yet, somehow, I feel grateful.
Grateful that I could be the one to place a cool rag on a brow.
To coax sips of ginger ale, to rub a small back through fresh pajamas, to provide the relief of cool, crisp sheets.
Grateful to find a new attitude to bring to the common place illnesses we all suffer through. I’m tempted to complain of my own exhaustion, still awake at 3 a.m. waiting for the next wave, and my aching back from sleeping on a cramped bedroom floor. (Why do we have so many stuffed animals?!)
But I feel thankful that this will pass. Though we haven’t been exempt from pain, we’ve been sheltered from so much: an unborn life lost too soon, a debilitating injury from an accident, a terminal diagnosis that leads to long-suffering.
I’ve learned to be patient, and not worry about the lists of things to do, to take the time to put them aside. I’ve learned to appreciate the opportunity to serve my children and husband, to give them comfort and the hopefully life-long memory that I was there for them when they needed me, to lift their head, to soothe and to nourish them. I’ve learned to pray through it, to cast my fears on Him and trust that He has purpose in even the hardest, least glamorous moments of motherhood.
I’ve learned to find the honor in tending the beautiful buds, that ultimately aren’t mine, but that He’s entrusted to me.
I promise to give it all I’ve got.
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