A Mother's Sick Day

I remember when I worked for the City and had oodles of sick days accrued to my account. Back then, a sick day meant crawling under the covers and sleeping for five or six hours. It meant waking in the afternoon to a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a long hot bath. It meant taking Asprin or Nyquill. It meant watching a favorite movie and finishing the book on the nightstand. It meant all housework ceased and the laundry waited.

A Mother's sick day has a much different meaning. It means wiping a snotty nose that's not your own. It means waking up to soothe a coughing, feverish boy five times in one night, even though your body is achy and sluggish. It means toughing it out without any medicine to protect the little baby growing inside. It means making Jello and crushing ice to be sure that your sick toddler gets enough fluid. It means washing a favorite blanket and mopping up spilled apple juice from the kitchen floor. It means learning how to consider others better than yourself, when "yourself" is all you feel like considering (Phil 2:3).


Caleb and I came down with a nasty cold flu several days ago. This morning, after a fitful night's sleep, I found him crashed on the couch after breakfast.

Sleep, my little one. Mommy is nearby.