I'm writing a post, and I should be going to bed.
But really, isn't the best time to write when it's just you, alone with your thoughts?
My husband and I and my 3 girls have been so sick all week. It seems to get better, and then it just shifts, just becomes something else intolerable. But of course, what is there to do but tolerate it, get through it, whisper into little ears, "Sleep, baby. Tomorrow you'll feel so much better!"
And then the morning comes and your babies just lay on the couch, on the floor, crying, asking for water. It breaks my heart to see my children suffer.
It breaks my heart to see any child suffer.
But at least our kids have us. We love them, we'd do anything for them. Not all children have this luxury.
And not all parents have the luxury of having their "baby" in their arms even long enough to kiss goodbye, let alone watch them get the flu at the age of 3 or 4.
I know that I am privileged. I know this. I think about it always. I've seen enough loss and hardship to know that even this week is something I will never ask to be erased. I cherish my childrens' flushed cheeks, cries of congestion, moans of fever; because I am with them, and they are with me. There are people in my life that trust me to take care of them. This is the most humbling place to be in as a human-- when you must set aside your own state, and take care of another. Not because you "have to," but because you must.
I love my children. I'm so thankful for them. They've taught me so much more than they will ever even know. And when I see parents in the midst of loss, and pain, and mourning for their children, I am doubly grateful for what I have.
May peace and faith and strength of spirit be with those who suffer for and long to hold their children.