I got up Monday morning with an agenda that would make the rest of my week less cramped, more “white”, so in other words, this Monday was to be a high achievement day. The first hitch in my giddy-up were Julia’s words as she rolled over in the bed, “Momma, I’m not feeling well.” I know her and she doesn’t say those words unless she really isn’t feeling well. Even so, I have this completely-made-up-by-me philosophy of not admitting that either kid is sick until they have had a full glass of water and a healthy breakfast (unless they are burning hot or losing dinner from somewhere). When she didn’t eat her favorite breakfast, I took it down a notch. She hung in there with us until about 1 and when she prayed over grilled cheese and clementines, her voice was shaking with shivers. I released the agenda and I gave in completely to her sickness and tended to her the rest of the day and night. Margin. Wiggle room. It came from nowhere. From 1:30 to about 4:30, I sat on the couch reading, resting, comforting and checking on her as she napped and groaned beside me. Miraculously, like out of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem, Brighton sat quietly on the den floor and spun his way through ROLLS of tape (black electrical tape when he ran out of “Scottish” tape) and downsized stacks of paper making everything from the White House to a very green soccer field. Never in my apprehension regarding the week would I have imagined that kind of Monday but her fever stopped everything. I read to them. I read to myself when she dozed off. I held paper walls in place while Brighton taped away. It was even quiet enough to read some of the immunization training materials that I have to learn by Friday. (This is mostly what I need wiggle room for this week!)
As fever hung on to Julia most of the night and through the late night check, I knew she wouldn’t be able to go to Science Etc. on Tuesday, therefore I wouldn’t be able to attend the annual Blossoms in the Dust Gladney Center for Adoption luncheon. More margin -- again, where I least expected it. So as American Girl, Felicity, won Penny’s heart and made her choice to be a Patriot in Williamsburg on our TV and as Julia wrapped herself in blankets beside me on the couch, I sat reviewing things I haven’t thought of since my licensure exam twenty years ago-- B-cells, T-helper cells, macrophages, phagocytes and cytokines--completing hour two of eight hours of reading.
No, I am not glad she’s had fever. Of course not. I just know on Sunday, I found myself so torqued I couldn’t sleep. I knew the next day was Monday and if I wasn’t careful I’d arrive at Saturday evening clutching too many regrets to take to bed with me. He gave me margin, allowed me margin-- whatever your theology is. We might could argue that but we can’t argue this,
“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matthew 6: 33-34
I can’t say I was seeking “first His kingdom” but I can say I was awfully worried about my next set of tomorrows and my capacity to pull them off and here I am, typing, writing, documenting what He is teaching me. Wiggling in some white space I didn’t know I would have.
~Thank You. I didn’t think to ask You for it.~
Now, back to antigens and antibodies....