Warning: this is not for the faint of gut
It has been a rough few days over here at our crib.
My sweet man became violently ill yesterday morning, bodily fluids shooting from every possible orifice. This virus wrecked him so completely that he found himself crawling back to bed, muscles locking, head pounding, body screaming, nearly passing out on the floor beside our bed.
I knew when nausea started to creep into my gut that we were in trouble.
The desperate prayer {and further pleas for radical grace} commenced, and has yet to cease.
We thought our kids were in the clear until Cricket sweetly said, “my tummy hurts…” and then proceeded to hurl the entire contents of her stomach down my front. I, in an effort to rush her to the bathroom, was holding her when she erupted. Her lunch promptly glued my hair together, drenched my sweater, soaked my jeans, leaked between my toes, and pooled in my bra.
It was awesome.
We were so thankful our little Bug seemed unaffected by this vicious tummy bug as not being able to keep his heart meds down could cause complications with his heart. Until…8:00pm…warm cup up milk before bed…mercilessly hosed all over the couch, projectile style.
Smashing.
Never before have all the members of my immediate family been sick at the same time. And with this ruthless flu.
My husband was slowly recovering – staggering around the house versus crawling, dry heaving at the sight of food – and I felt like I had been run over by a Mac truck, having recently fallen asleep in the fetal position on our bathroom floor, clutching “the bucket”.
Our house wreaked of 2nd hand food.
But here’s the beautiful part of this icky post…I zipped out a text message late last night to some of my closest girlfriends; a cry for intercession for the long night ahead, and was SO aware of God’s grace and patience enveloping my hubby and I as we dealt with our sick kiddos, changing sheets and pajamas, making numerous bathroom trips, and leaning over the bed in frantic search of “the bucket” in the middle of what had to be one of the longest nights of my life.
Even in the midst of the turmoil and pain (and boy…was there pain: every muscle in my body aches), the puke and the sleeplessness, there was a sweetness that reigned.
God is good. All the time.
Now if you’ll excuse me…I must go find the Tylenol. And some tea.
Ps. I find it rather unfair {said with a smirk} that on the night I can actually enjoy something delectably sweet…like, at 12:01 tonight…the thought of sweets makes me want to die. That’s just wrong. Just sayin’.}
