Everyone’s sick around here.
Well. No. Not everyone. I’m not sure I’ve even counted. I just know there are a number of fevery little people moaning and whining, protesting and complaining; and, in my sleep-deprived state, I’m just as likely to try and administer Motrin to a well one as a sick one or absent-mindedly wipe a drip-free nose while, one couch cushion over, the child it was intended for is simply left to sit and sniffle.
And it must not quite be all of them because Daisy, who, I’m sure, in the truest part of her soul only feels the deepest of sorrows over her siblings languishing in misery, has been prancing about – all smiles and cheer -- exclaiming how glad she is that she isn’t sick and marveling over how she escaped it when she’s usually the first to fall ill. (I worry her celebrations are a wee bit premature as we aren’t even a full 24 hours into this.)
I’m not in despair mind you. I’m more in a state of . . . listless and unglamorous muddling. After all, no one is throwing up. And, while plans for family night gave away to . . . plans for survival, nearly anything is bearable so long as no one is throwing up! (Though I am at a grave loss for how to handle a baby who wakes in the night with no appetite and no interest in any sort of rocking or snuggling. And I have noted that toddlers [and army-crawlers alike] don’t seem to understand in the slightest degree that being sick means you are supposed to lie about listlessly waiting to get well. They seem only to want to wander about [increasing their misery with each passing moment] searching for some explanation for their unwellness or some non-existent cure; and, unable to discover such a thing, they find themselves becoming more and more angry [and more and more cry-ee . . . soooo much more cry-ee].)
On a happy note, my efforts to put all of these sick, little, dears to bed drastically early resulted in me getting them to bed . . . actually on time, and here I am typing at the computer before darkness has even fully fallen outside. (Though I suppose I should away with myself to the store before too long. For being in such a situation, we’re frighteningly low on Tylenol!)
Anyway . . . while this current predicament hasn’t done me in (and has only made me tired and mildly apt to lose a smidgen of my mind with each bout of whining that coincides with me trying to get something done) being awake for, well, most of last night did allow my night-time brain plenty of opportunity to tangle itself around and around other more serious worries – trials that I know are looming; difficulties I see on the horizon but don’t see my way through. In the moments between going up and down stairs to try and calm Mette, drifting fretfully to sleep, and being re-woken again by one child or another, my brain wriggled itself into quite an impressive and tangled knot of fear.
Yet, somehow, through that unreasonableness (well, not total unreasonableness, some of the trials are very real and the ways through them, as yet, completely unknown), words from a song came to my mind, and they came like scripture, telling my spirit, in a way more intimate than the words themselves could, things that it recognized as true. Generally, yes, but even more: specifically. In my tossing and turning little state of mental turmoil, I wasn’t alone, and the father of my eternal soul worked his way through my walls of “It can’t possibly be managed” and “I’ll never see it through” with . . . hope. And courage. And perspective.
“. . . no toil nor labor fear; . . . Though hard to you this journey may appear, Grace shall be as your day. . . . Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard? ‘Tis not so; all is right. Why should we think to earn a great reward If we now shun the fight? Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake; And soon we’ll have this tale to tell – All is well! All is well!”
Fresh courage take all my loved ones. As hard as this journey appears, it is as it should be, and your God, whether you know him or not, is your God. He has no plans to forsake you. On with the fight.