Happy Tuesday! Long time, no blog. There’s a reason for it. You may have guessed it, dear readers: I contracted Ruby’s ick. She and I were sick buddies, home together for most of last week. We hacked our way through kids’ movies. We endured fevers up over 102 degrees. We sneezed and sniffled and napped. It was the worst of times. Yet sorta sweet, as we snuggled on the couch, comatose and nearly appetite-free.
I kept getting up, thinking, “Well, if I just medicate myself enough, I could go in. It’s not so bad.” Then I would try. Everything ached. The thought of showering and shuffling towards a presentable appearance seemed monumental at best. I had no energy or brain power. I would crawl back under the covers. The flu had me.
My conscience, however, worked overtime. I felt guilty. If I’d just been more careful with sterilizing things after Ruby touched them. If I’d eaten better, gotten enough sleep, and on and on. If, if, if. Then, I tried to keep the flu confined to just Ruby and I. I didn’t want the boys to get it. And they haven’t.
It’s okay if you get sick. It’s not the end of the world. Rest. Read or watch TV. Eat and drink, if you can. Pray, if your brain will crank out a coherent thought. If not, don’t. Feeling guilty won’t get you healed any faster. I had to let it all go. I put myself completely in God’s hands. Which, it turns out, is where I was supposed to be all along.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take. – Proverbs 3:5-6