It’s happening, yet again. The tension. Good and bad mixed up and poured out into one big, glorious, disappointing mess. Living in that. Always.
This week’s mess looked like illness brought on me suddenly Thursday morning and lasting through Friday evening, derailing an important plan that had been on the calendar for months. A really important, FUN plan.
Instead of spending Friday with my adult girls shopping in Charlottesville, among other things. I spent it home sick being cared for by those who love me.
Embracing the care was hard.
Embracing the care was sweet.
Mom texted to ask if I needed anything. I didn’t think so, until it was apparent that someone ate the rest of my Tom Yum soup. I wasn’t sure. I could say no and isolate. I could say yes and embrace.
I chose yes.
Mom showed up with two orders of soup and conversation. It was a sweet lunch. And dinner later. And a snack the next day.
An adult daughter texted that she wanted to come over and hang out if I felt up to it. I wasn’t sure. I could say no and isolate. I could say yes and embrace.
I chose yes.
It was a sweet afternoon. She showed up with tea and soup. We spent time reminiscing and laughing and sorting through memories. The afternoon flew by. Such grace.
By evening, though, it was apparent that I was not recovering as quickly as had been hoped and that another fun family plan that had been in the works for months would have to be canceled. An out-of-town weekend visit to a sibling at college was not going to work. It broke little hearts.
It broke my heart to break theirs.
I wanted badly to take our well-reasoned, thought-out decision back. I wanted to try. I wanted to fix and make everyone feel better fast. It’s hard for me to sit with my children in their heartache and tears. It’s hard to help them sort feelings, when I don’t understand my own very well.
The sweetness from earlier in the day changed to bitterness on my tongue. Even harder was feeling responsible for their pain, since my body was the one not cooperating.