Some Live and Learn. . .

And. . . some just live.

We go and go and go and sometimes limp along a little. . . until there comes that moment when we have to give it up. So that was me Wednesday night. I had been fighting the cough since 12/12 and the tailbone incident was no small injury and so a sinus infection coming on was the last straw. I give. I cancelled lessons for Thursday, went back to the doctor and settled into a four day break.

I'm feeling better--not sure if it was the antibiotics, the mucinex, the pseudoephedrine, the steroid nasal spray, the inhaler, the ibuprofen, the prescription cough medicine or the allegra. Could have been the hot lemon water or the apple cider vinegar or the steam shower. Or it might have been two nights of ten hour sleep.

By the end of day two, alone in my own house (kids and Bill off to Arizona), I settle back into equilibrium. Train of thought. It was on the calendar for me to teach down in Austin this weekend. By the flukey grace of God, they ended up with fewer kids this year and didn't need me. I'm sad to miss my Austin gang and the kids--but all things work together for good and this time--I needed a break.

It only takes a little solitude and time and space for that deep calm to return. That peace that passes understanding. And as soon as we feel it we wonder why we let it go for so long.

I guess the question is, why we don't ask for help and call time out sooner. Bill was happy to let me sleep in the basement and he got up and got both kids to school albeit without piano practice but clean and fed. And my sub was happy to play on Sunday even though it turned out I could still be in town. And I didn't hear any tears on the phone when I cancelled a day of lessons.

Most of the time all we have to do is ask. We are not so important that the world will stop spinning if we are not at the wheel.

Gratitude sinks in and we tell ourselves we won't ever let this happen again. I'll never overdo it and take on this much again.

But I will. And probably you will too.

All we can do is try to obey that law of the sabbath. To be instead of do. And take that long breath that you are reminded you need, only when you are too sick to take it.

We must trust that we are right where we need to be. Sometimes it's too much. But sometimes the gratitude, peace, and love fill in the space, the little space where the sabbath leads us.

Tonight my friends are flying in for a girl's stacation. I'll pick them up in a couple hours. My home is clean. There is food in the fridge. There is firewood on the porch. The house is silent. I'm back to my very best self.

Tomorrow is my birthday. I probably should be wiser for my age. Some live and learn, and some just live.

Even so, I know I'm right where I need to be. All the pedals of the flower are important. Every mom is the hub of a complex wheel. I do like the flower metaphor a little better--see my mind map from the last entry.

I don't need to run away to Colorado, I don't need to change my life or become a monk, I just needed to catch my breath--and I waited a little too long this time.

Remember the sabbath. To keep it holy. To keep us holy. To keep us whole. Amen