The fever broke about 5 hours into the New Year and my body came out of a relatively sound sleep just to celebrate. Despite our best efforts and all of our planning, the holiday season has been a bit rocky.
We were blessed to spend time with family and do a bit of traveling, but the extended hours and hectic schedule, combined with all the drastic temperature and weather changes brought an additional consideration to the mix for both of us. All things considered, we might have been smarter to stay at home.
It would have meant missing a fabulous lighting event in beautiful scenery and the opportunity to spend time with family who live far away—not to mention one of the best pizzas ever and a bite of some out-of-this-world gourmet chicken salad. It would have meant a few more months in between face-to-face smiles and hugs that have to last for months to come. It would have meant…you know, you can only look back so much before you miss out on the present.
We went. We hugged and smiled and shared and loved. It was good to see them. It will last us until the next time because that’s what has to be. We came home and we collapsed.
I am a bad patient. Scratch that. I am a VERY bad patient. I am not patient…with confinement or limitations or being told to let others help me do the simple things I’m more comfortable doing for them. I am certain that my long stretches between illnesses are, in part, a gift from God to my husband who must deal with me through them. He is a gift…on so many levels.
Being ill means you can’t run your normal schedule—much less make up ground for some of the things that necessarily go undone due to end-of-the-year shows and travels. I’m not really patient about that, either. I’ve always pushed me harder than anyone else and I suppose that will continue.
Despite my husband’s cautions to “take it easy” and rest today, I’ve been doing laundry and catching up on the 500+ emails that came in during our little sabbatical, spraying everything that doesn’t run away with Lysol and wiping down other surfaces with a zeal that would make Howard Hughes proud. Yep, my secret is out: I’m a lousy patient with OCD tendencies and a germaphobe complex. It happens…and yes, you can pray for my husband about this. (smile)
I had plenty of time over the past few days to figure out what needed to happen and in what order so I could restore the sanity to the house. (I will parenthetically and categorically say here that the sanity that was missing was mine…all mine…)
I’ve been alternating working and resting today; too little of the first for my taste and too little of the second for my husband’s. As I’ve done so, I’ve been thinking about all of the things yet to be done…and then, as I put in a load of sheets, it hit me: It’s 2013. It’s a brand new year and we missed the party. We didn’t celebrate. It’s a gift of another day, another start, another opportunity to fulfill the mission, another chance to enjoy the now and not get so caught up in the to-do list that I forget all that has been accomplished or the things that should be acknowledged in the now.
I started the load and headed to the kitchen. I can’t do anything about the time I ‘lost’, but I can decide to make the most of the time I have now; so today, at 3:27 PM, I popped the top of the chilled sparkling cider I left in the fridge and brought a crystal glass full of bubbly juice to my sweet husband. It may not be a massive change, but it’s a start.
“I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.” Philippians 3:13-14 (The Message)
Welcome to 2013!