This isn't going to be much of a Mother's Day posting. But Happy Mother's Day to all you motherly souls out there, whether you have children or not. You most likely have a dog, a cat, a bird, or even your friends that you nurture. So, enjoy the day. It's yours.
I've had an interesting 48 hours. Came down with some kind of flu bug with a high fever. I was feeling way too hot the night before last, and trudged downstairs, trailing my blanket. I thought the living room would be cooler. But I didn't make it all the way to the couch. Somewhere in the dining room I felt faint, and woke up a few seconds later staring at the legs of the dining room table. After that I made it to the couch. Sure enough, the coolness allowed me to return to a muddled sleep. But I couldn't figure out why my mouth hurt.
Somewhere in my swirling dreams, I wondered if I had malaria. After all, I did get those 8 or 12 whopping mosquito bites in India that left welts. But I don't really believe I have anything other than the boring old flu. The travel doctor had put me on way too strong of medications for that trip. But it was entertaining in my slightly delirious state to compare my 'writerly' self to Hemingway. That overblown author had his alcohol to inspire his work. Wouldn't it be cool--I thought--to be the author who writes about India and suffers the occasional bout of malaria. Sounded terribly romantic to me. At the time.
David found me on the couch at six that morning as he was getting ready for work. That's when I discovered I'd bit my inner lip pretty badly as I was going down. I received his scolding for not alerting him in the middle of the night. That made me feel cherished. Insert a smiley face here.
Have no fear. I'm fine. I'm just not feeling well enough to go to church today. And of course you can be sure the fainting episode will find its way into something I write. I've already dissected and examined every facet of the moment in detail for future reference. Not that women swoon all that much in real life, not like they do in older romantic novels. God made women of stronger stuff than that.
But nothing is ever wasted in a writer's life. For that matter, nothing is ever wasted in a Christian's life. God promises to make everything that happens to us turn out for good to those who are called according to his purposes. We're not going to discuss today, the fact that the 'good' He promises may be character development. And we all know how much that can smart at times. But it is good none the less.
So, I'll go get myself a cup of tea, a nice bowl of soft cereal, a teaspoon of peanut butter and mush my way back to perfect health.
Happy Muddled Mother's Day.
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