I found myself on the couch buried beneath an afghan my friend crocheted for me. From within the warm layers, I rubbed my fluffy slippers together and tried to shake off the chill of the fever that made my bones ache. Worse, the tickle from deep in my bronchial tubes was trickling so that I couldn’t help but cough spasmodically. And when done wracking and choking, I stared at the book shelf and wheezed. What lovely books, I thought. How I wish I could read them. Alas, I was too sick.
Sickness always finds me unprepared and unguarded. It’s strange really, how life is moving along and then, well, everything stops. Time trips over itself. And the minutes become a long tangle of questions, or worse, exclamation points.
What are we if we aren’t producing anything?
My identity is so frequently tied up with the work I do, whether at home or in the office. I crave accomplishment. I need validation. So when I’m stuck on the couch and the only thing I produce is the carbon monoxide from my nostrils when I exhale, I get to feeling, well, rather stale. Who am I?
I don’t generally have a family that dotes on me. The people in my house tend to be wrapped up in their own situations. So when I found myself on the couch with my little grand daughter tending to me, I was rather humbled. As I lay there shivering, she sat in a chair at my side and sang little songs to me that she was making up as she sang. I didn’t understand a word but I felt her love and care. I also felt tears trickling down my cheeks. What made her bend low to sit with her “Grammy”? To talk sweetly, and pet her hand and to sing songs to cheer her? I was really moved by her tenderness. What a gift!
I’ve been going through a rough time lately. I’ve been having panic attacks and many sleepless nights. I’ve been praying the Psalms in all my waking moments and waiting for God to intervene. I remember a pastor saying many years ago that when God doesn’t remove the miserable situation, He sends His comfort. Sometimes comfort takes the form of a little girl with big brown eyes, cherub cheeks and dark frizzy hair. I never imagined I could love someone so much, or be loved in such a pure and unique way.
When the days are difficult, I am thankful for an identity rich in the love of my Heavenly Father and my precious granddaughter. When I struggle to remember who I am, it is a deep comfort to know I am loved.
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