Do I Look Sick?

We had plans to go visit The Italian sister-in-law, and family, one weekend. So, of course, it was only fitting that Sweetboy came home with The Big Question on his lips.

“Do I look sick, mama?”

This is one of his current perseverations, along with anything to do with shorts, and an abhorrence to any potential puking. (Although, to be fair, I don’t know anyone who loves the sound of retching!)

When the child is suffering from allergies, he will ask us 246 times, between the hours of waking and sleeping, if he looks sick. He will have us check his throat with a flashlight almost as many times. The forehead thermometer gets quite the workout, too.

Good times.

If someone in his class gets sick during his school day, he walks in the door informing us about it. He gets his snack wondering if he’ll get sick. He does his homework, pausing periodically to ask, “Do I look sick”? During dinner, he’ll stop eating long enough to ask if we think him eating his dinner will make him sick. As he showers, he pokes his head out of the shower door to ask us to confirm that he doesn’t look sick. The child will lay in his bed agonizing over whether he is going to fall ill next.

His preoccupation with the possibility of becoming sick, during these times, is so intense, that it’s easy to lose patience with him. I mean, by the twelfth time he poses the question (within one hour!), there aren’t many creative ways to say, “Nope”, left.

Ultimately, though, how could I get angry about this? Because, I ask this question of My Father, all. the. time!

“Remove that thought from your mind, child,” He wisely suggests.

“Show that friend the grace I show you, daughter,” He gently reminds.

“Practice hospitality for her even though you feel exhausted today,” He encourages.

I bristle at all the prompting, sometimes.

“But, God, do I look sick?”

I don’t, of course.

Not to the mamas waiting at the bus stop with me. Not to my exercise buddies as we huff and puff together in the mornings. Not to the cashier swiping my Devil Dogs through the scanner. Not to my online Bible study team as we reason out ways to best highlight an important principle.

No, I don’t look sick.

It doesn’t mean I’m not, though.

Sometimes, I’m sick at heart over hurting another who needed mercy. Other times I find myself sick to death of bearing incessant questions with patience. Even physical sickness, itself, rears its ugly head once in a while.

“It is not the healthy people who need a doctor, but the sick. I did not come to invite good people but to invite sinners.”  (Mark 2:17)

And so, as we returned from the urgent care with a positive rapid strep test the next morning, he didn’t even bother asking the question. He had his confirmation.

Just as I have mine.

Indeed.

Best Lines of the Week

My mom put a flower on my face.

 

It’s November 1st. (Well, it was yesterday, anyway.)  And I’m going to start (or end) each post this month with something I’m thankful for.  Because we can all use a little more thankfulness in our lives, right?

 

And, oh boy, am I ready to get this thankful show on the road. It’s been one heck of an eventful week around here.  And in all of the wrong ways.  We lost power. We regained power a day and a half later.  We got the pukes.  We’d like to boot the pukes. Sigh… you can’t win em’ all.

 

I’d like to end on a positive note.

 

To that end,  some of my favorite “lines” of the week, first..  And for them, I am so thankful.  Each one provided a much-needed dose of laughter.

 

Sweetgirl: “Daddy, I’m tired. When’s Christmas?”  (After hitting up only the 10th house for her Halloween loot, the poor thang was ‘zausted.  And ready to move on to the next holiday please.)

Sweetboy:  “Mama, the power’s back on! You can shower now!”  (We survived Hurricane Sandy. I quite enjoyed that little reprieve from the daily shower, thank-you-very-much.)

Sweetman: “This song brought to you by B & M Baked Beans!” (Regarding Carrie Underwood’s performance of “Blown Away” during the CMA’s last night. You see, she had some fancy special effects blowing practically up the back of her dress.  And it looked…odd.)

 

I am oh-so-thankful for:

 

  • Music.  It can heal a hurt, soothe a raging beast, get ya’ in the mood, lower the ol’ blood pressure, convict the tar out of a heart, make you feel a little less alone, take you out of your situation 0r help you remember why you’re in it.  I’m so thankful for it.
  • Running water.  It’s such a monumental thing to stop in the middle of the 5th puke bucket wash-out and realize that somewhere, some mama doesn’t have it.  She has nothing to wipe the sweat from her child’s brow with.  Nothing to wash away the sick.
  • Hope.  It wells up inside of me lately at the oddest moments.  But I am grateful.  Moments that I can’t even imagine holding out hope for. and yet, it’s there.  Flickering. Unwilling to let anyone or anything smite it out.  Yes, Lord. Thank you Lord.
  • Devil Dogs.  I heart you.  You make my days bearable.  (Is it wrong to anthropomorphize food?)
  • Power.  Take that to mean whatever form you’d like.  I mean it all.  All.

 

Oh, yes indeedy.