Six days my daughter was sick- flu ridden and couch bound. Then three days more for me… and counting.
It’s been oddly refreshing and freeing- if I’m willing to admit it.
In the midst of fevers and sore throats and tummy troubles, I’ve found myself swimming effortlessly, in Rivers of Grace.
Without judgement, I’ve given myself permission to let her watch tv: for 6 days straight and eat whatever she wants. Without guilt, I’ve given myself permission to be with her, tucked in and cuddled down on the couch. Then I did the same when it was my turn to be sick.
I’ve indulged in too much tv. I’ve read for hours on end. I’ve dreamt and journaled about frivolous things. I’ve shopped online and perused social media feeds. I’ve texted with friends and blogged for long hours. I’ve stared at photos Ive seen one thousand times.
And while that might seem menial and insignificant, it’s a miracle in my books. Because I did it all willingly, without reluctance or guilt; in full acceptance and delight!
I felt zero remorse for the meetings I cancelled (and there were many), the things I didn’t show up for and the people I couldn’t help. I let friends bring me food and my husband keep the house and run errands.. including things I haven’t “let him touch” in years!
I broke my own rules of discipline and moderation, revelling in the excess of rest and play. I didn’t count down the hours or the days until life would go back to normal and I could get things done.
My house remains undone. So does my to-do list.
And it’s long.... with important, time sensitive obligations.
But for now, it waits and will remain that way until I’m fully better.
There will be no mustering of energy or cutting healing short.
No Madame. Not this time!
So, if you’ll excuse me, another Netflix binge is calling. I think I’ll indulge myself in a Hallmark Christmas marathon this time.