Small Comforts

I've been a little under the weather.
Well, more like "under the effects of anesthesia and pain meds."

And since I can't yet lift my own toothbrush with my right hand, I also can't even type the incoherent thoughts that run through my mind.  Or remember with detail how in my youthful ignorance I would consider dependence as a sign of weakness.

But I did want to share how much I've been cared for....
and it's nice to be cared for.

While many families might spend their Spring Break on a beach or in Disney World, or even relaxing in their own backyard, my husband spent his entire break in 4 hour increments, around the clock.  He dispensed medication, kept a cooling machine full of water and ice, helped me navigate the 10 baby steps to the bathroom, and even washed my hair.  (And he took care of the whole family too).

He has modeled care and compassion, and my children have watched and learned well.

One child has helped adjust cords and velcro in the middle of the night.  Another has attended physical therapy so I can have help with my exercises at home.  Another is a wiz with the sling. 

I've had help fetching water, the phone, the Ipod, the remote.  I haven't been in the laundry room for two weeks, and clothes are still being washed, dryed, and put away.  I can't drive, so I've been driven.

And tonight, my 3 year old sitting next to me on the couch rubbed my arm gently, and then proceeded to put a Nemo band-aid on the hurt spot. 

And others have helped.

Several dinners have been delivered, and there are offers to assist with taxi services.  Delightful cards and good wishes have been mailed to my home.  Kel's mom and dad sent a gorgeous lavender plant, and my own parents gave me a beautiful blooming azalea.  I've been kept in prayer in the hearts of dear family and friends, and I get repeated texts and emails reminding me of their vigil, often well-timed with my moments of feebleness or frustration.

I'm keenly aware of how undeserving I am to be showered with such goodness and generosity.

But, I keep myself humbly open to it.   For, if out of my own pride or stubborness or independence I turn any of this away, I close the door to an opportunity for others to serve, to love.  The Giver benefits too.

And sometimes for me that humility takes a little effort.

Consider, for example, slowly coming to consciousness and realizing you're propped up in a brand new fluffy overstuffed recliner with a perfect view of a flat screen tv.  

A dream?  An hallucination?  You don't own a recliner and your tv has a 10 inch screen, and you've never really pined for either.

But at some point you realize that's exactly how a family would go to the moon to make sure you're comfortable.  You realize you're tremendously grateful, for they just may know you better than yourself. 

I surely didn't know I wouldn't sleep in a bed for two weeks, or that I would want to see the scores for an NCAA bracket game instead of puny blurs at the bottom of a puny screen.  I had no idea seemingly extravagent items like a chair and a tv would bring me such comfort.  Who knew?

But now that I'm thinking about it, in and out of this pain-med fog,  I can cross at least two items off of  somone's "Over the Moon/Someday/Maybe/Sure Would Be Nice" Personal Wish List... even if the list isn't mine.

Time to rest and put my feet up...