Recently, the weather around here has perked up a bit. We are above the frost level at night, which is great for us- typically, the no planting before mother's day rule applies. But right now, it has been gorgeous. Or, so it seems from my window.



I have been sick now for a mere three and half days. It seems like torture to watch my crab apple tree blossom into amazing pink billowy blooms while I languish in my jammy pants for another afternoon. There are bulbs and seeds trying to sprout from their little nesting spots in my laundry room.



Despite the wonderful change in weather, I managed to catch...something. I have no idea what. E coli? Disentary? I don't get sick often. When I do, it usually isn't that bad- generally what I have remains for only a fraction of the time others were sick, and it hits me maybe half as hard. I usually get it last, after it has cycled through my kids and my husband. I don't know why this is- but I seem to have a higher level of immunity to the general flus and colds. Maybe it comes from years of living in a foreign country, maybe it is the multiple times I have lived through diseases like malaria.

But when I do get sick, it is always accompanied by an overhwleming depression. Laying in bed, physically incapacitated, watching my husband work his terribly long days, and then come home to a dirty house and dirty, hungry, kids and a miserable wife. It makes everything even worse. There is a monumental difference between apathy for cleaning, and a desire but inability to clean your house. I know this is a temporary illness, but in my horribly morbid mind, thoughts begin to circulate- what would my family do without me? Would they cry and suffer? Would they grow up to be sad, lonely, half-loved children? Would the woman who came into their lives later love them? Or hate them? Or make them resent their father? What would their weddings be like?

Normally, these thoughts might pass through my mind, but then be lost in the millions of other pasing thoughts interupted by my hectic days. But when I am sick, and all I can do is lay there, and try to read, or post sad little rants like these, those thoughts don't go away as easily.

Today I am finally feeling better. Much better. I am going to lunch with my dad, always a glad occasion, and we are celebrating our birthdays together (his is December 25, mine December 11- we've been a little busy.) Yesterday I spent the day happily mopping and reorganizing, and helped Lilly plant some perennials. The kids played outside all day, even during the sprinkling showers. And I cooked dinner on the grill- one of my most favorite things to do in warm weather. Some delicious green peppers and garlic, potatos and chicken- oh, it was yummy.



I like to live as though each day matters- that each day is a gift, something special. Each day I can spend with my little ones, loving them, meeting their needs and making them laugh; each day I can greet my husband with a hug and a kiss and warm dinner and listening ears- that is what I am put on this Earth for. Each day I cannot- is very hard for me. I count myself blessed to have my very good health, and pray continuously that it remains. When I was a child, I would follow my mother around the house and "help" her do chores. I remember hearing her repeat to herself "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" on a daily basis. My father, an artist, drew a picture for my mother that remained in our dining room for many, many years- it depicted our house on a typical day back then- my brother, red-faced and screaming in his high chair with food splattered all around. Beneath him, our dog, lapping up his spilled food from the floor. Me, sitting in the bathroom, playing with toilet paper, singing to myself. Pots and pans boiling and rattling on the stove top, dishes in the sink. In the middle, my mother stands, bedraggled, in work clothes, with my father's pet bird on her shoulder, her head bent in prayer. As a wife and mother now, I now see that portrait on a near-daily basis. But I can only keep trying to be as wonderfully loving and accepting, as calm and hard- working as my mother was. A few days of being sick, and I feel as though I will never be as good as she is. Lord, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me! And thank you for such a great mom.