Relinquishment

Okay. I give.
Someone has been sick in this house since the beginning of November. Mary has Influenza A. I don't know the H and N numbers and I don't care. I've had it. Bill was sick for three weeks. Calvin was sick going into his Book 7 recital. Our Christmas recital is in two days and Mary is down and out. Did you know tamiflu is $314.55? And she threw up the first two doses. I've cleaned up and wiped noses and shaken thermometers--hugged and kissed. There's no hope of proper hygiene when you are taking care of your baby.

In the middle of the night it came to me--again--Jesus take the wheel. . . I can't singlehandedly keep the world healthy no matter how many vitamins and medicines I give. Any of us could get ill anytime. Our church choral service is this weekend too--so I get worried that I would actually get sick enough--like Mary is now--to really let people down. And the piano kids have been working so hard on their pieces. The Christmas recital is my favorite day of the year.

Relinquish control.

Fear of being sick or having your family be sick is with obvious exceptions, often worse than the real flu. I hate fear. It's the opposite of love.

My grandpa John used to say, "I wouldn't worry too much about that. There's not too much you can do about that." That's from an Iowa farmer--no stranger to relinquishment--of--the wind and rain and hail and bugs.

I dropped Calvin with his lingering cough at school. Came home and went through the Christmas cards. Took Mary's temp--102.5. Worse than last night.

I finally let the tears roll--when I read my friends Annette's Christmas note--I've seen this message before but you know how things hit you differently when you're down. (Parentheses mine.)

May today there be peace within.  (that means right now, not when everyone is well)
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. (home with a sick girl)
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. (healing)
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. (love is the opposite of fear--nothing can truly attack us here under God's loving wings. And. . . it's just a rectial.) 

Amen.