Yesterday was a big day at our house. Besides getting school kicked off, I spent most of the day in the living room. Up. Bathed and teeth brushed. With real live clothes on. Prayers were offered for a new school year and I prayed for many little ones by name as they headed off to school.
We got it kicked off without fancy new clothes and school supplies. The house wasn't perfect and the boys picked out their own outfits. Including a pair of pants with a big hole in the knee, and I was OK with it.
Three weeks in bed will chill a mama out. It will make the things that are really important rise to the top. Things like family and being present with a joyful spirit.
This man has kept our ship afloat. He even wore the sweater vest which I love him for.
He has cooked. Cleaned. Menu planned. Grocery Shopped. Done laundry. Kept the yard. Learned how to make his first roux. Changed jobs after thirteen years. Entered into a new phase of ministry. Ordered our family the complete series of Little House On The Prairie as a surprise during these quieter days. He has become the guitar lesson chauffeur. And never complained not even once.
Some things I have learned from the solitude of my last weeks. My eyes and ears are better. It seems like I was missing so much happening around me until I was forced to lay down and stop. I have been amazed at how the giggles of boys can light up my day. There are piles of clutter and we are OK. Canned soup, crackers and Gatorade are gifts from above.
My heart has also been softened toward the suffering. Last night greeted me with a surprise. The blinds were turned down. When I turned off the lamp, moonlight flooded my pillow, bed and nightstand. As I looked up, I could see the biggest moon through the slats in my blinds. The dark of night is my cue to pray for the suffering. There are so many people in my life who are suffering.
Prayers offered at first seem canned. Mechanical. But then something happens. The ability to enter into the pain and suffering of others comes. Tears fall and the wordless prayers offered on behalf of my loved ones reach the throne. It is a small offering but compassion toward the suffering is something that has blossomed ten fold in my world these last weeks. Fragments of scripture come to mind. Psalm 23. Isaiah 53.
He knows the sorrows of our days.
Sleep comes and this morning I am up again and all I can think about is apple fritters.
That's a good thing.