Thursday, November 7, 2013

sick days and the beauty of Christ

The cough came. Then the fevers. On Tuesday night Bubby awoke a little after midnight. We spent the night on the couch as I tried to have him sleep propped up to help with the cough.  Both boys were drenched in sweat.

The boys and I spent Wednesday on the couch watching DVDs featuring PBS characters and Mike Wazowski.  Bugaboo dozed a couple of times, and we went through a carton of orange juice, which of course I watered down. By bedtime the fevers were worse, and my nurse-in-training-husband was home and checking their temps regularly for me. 104. 104.5. Bubby was covered in blankets and wearing a hat and said, "My head is shaking." He was still cold.

I spent the night on the floor in their room, sitting up with Bubby when he had a coughing fit and covering him back up with a blanket. When I gave Bugaboo another round of meds for his fever, he couldn't get back to sleep. So he ended up on the floor with me.  I lie there listening to my babies breathe. Listening to them sleep little bits at a time and trying to help them when they were awake. I was not sick, but I felt like I was almost experiencing it. I just wanted to take it away from them and give it to me.

And isn't that the beauty of Christ?

That He came and He experience the pains of the earth, of humanity, of sin because He loves me and wants to be with me? Because He wants to make me whole.

Immanuel. God with us.

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