We’re attempting to get over about 4 days of sickness.
It began with Eliot and worked its way through Travis and into Isaiah in fever form.
— A fevered baby is a sad sight to behold, and my arms were kept full all day and night.
When all my boys were sick, I consulted those holistic mommy blogs, the ones that brag on detox baths and honey-garlic concoctions.
I added triple garlic to every meal, veggies and fruit for every snack.
No one shared bites. No one shared kisses. I was anti-germ, and those germs knew it.
I sat down on Thursday in the midst of it and thought about all the physical ways I cared for our bodies–
the herbal tea popsicles;
the chest rubs;
the honey-lemon water;
and then I sat back and asked how our hearts were being cared for, all of them.
Sickness is a cloudy mess, everyone lost in a haze for days on end.
And when we finally all get back out into the sunlight, we breathe fresh again.
But today the sickness still lingers, and even though it’s been 80 degrees on FALL break, it’s been more of a time of quarantine for us.
I read a friend’s blog this morning, tears pooling my eyes, nearly drowning my vision completely.
— today I dearly miss the Ozark Fall.
This place is still new to us, and we’re still learning our way and exploring new coffee shops and finding community.
And when our tired bodies recover and Isaiah’s chest stops rattling with coughs—
Well, what then?
It’s a lie to say that living can’t happen here, now, in this germy place. No, peace abounds, indeed, and God’s voice is not muffled by our stuffed ears. He cannot be blurred by our tired eyes.
And we’ don’t just find Him when all is clear and all is “normal”– no, He’s actually so visible when life and routine are shifted upside down and sideways and absolutely backwards, when whole seasons of life are new and unknown and downright scary. He’s so visible when we’re unsure and feeling unsafe in the realization that we can’t always just trust ourselves.
So let us ask our hearts to seek Him, even when our bodies are frail. If we must, we gather knees to chest on the floor and rest like babies in His presence. We close our eyes and savor His voice in the stillness, in the sickness. We look out the window and see that life abounds in all ways, in all seasons.
And when we plunge back into story time at the library, when we welcome dear friends from Arkansas into our home this weekend–
Oh, then we see His presence in so many kindnesses, and we remember that He’s been here all along.