An Unexpected, Generous Gift...

An unwelcome cold virus snuck into the house last week. It grabbed Buck first, took him out of class for a day and settled in his chest. Yesterday, it was Colton who got punched and spent the day at home with mom.  We had a great day together, although he clearly wasn't well. This morning was better for him and with the little guy back to school, the virus turned and pummeled me with a vengeance. I managed to get the kids off to school and then I returned home to climb back under my covers. The house was loudly quiet. My schedule for the day consisted of nothing but house chores, the same ones that rolled over from yesterday and the day before. Laundry, mostly. I've managed to keep the hampers empty, but the sofa has been the recipient of piles of clean laundry, which have resided there for days as I've run about on errands and what-not. I always glance over at it before I go, like it's the plague and I run off, planning to do it later. Folding laundry can always wait till later.

I've been a fairly organized stay-at-home mom who normally runs a well-oiled machine, so people here are thrown for a loop when the machine grinds to a halt. This past week, with the virus nipping at my heels, I've been slow to get my work done. The family is gracious as I fall behind, but they remind me that they miss the more organized me. "I've been wearing the same pair of socks for three days," Sierra mumbles.  I remind her that all the socks are clean. "They may be clean, but I've not been able to find a single pair in the piles of laundry." She retorts.

"At least you are wearing your own socks," Buck interjects. "I've got two socks that don't match and they both belong to my sisters."

My husband's problem is the worst, but he doesn't mention it until it's too late to help him. I've heard him mumbling under his breath for the past two days about underwear. I can't find any underwear, there's none in my drawer. I remind him that I've had a lot going on and every thing's clean, it's just not folded and put away. Apparently, the other day, he gave up on tackling Mt. Clean Laundry and trekked out into his own personal desert, without underwear.  A cowboy in jeans and boots should always wear underwear. And, apparently, there is some considerable chaffing that goes on when there's no tighty-whiteys between the jeans and the, well, you know. So, last night, I had promised them all that I would make laundry folding and putting away a top priority today. Unfortunately, I had not planned on feeling so poorly and it was all I could do to get myself back into bed this morning. Laundry would have to wait one more day. Never mind that everyone here has two good hands, attached to two good arms and together could make light work of the mountain. We're all inundated with active, full schedules these days. We're like ants, each with our own jobs, walking in single file lines while we build our individual lives within our family unit. 

My life today, would be spent in bed. The only other time that I remember spending the whole day in bed was when I had gotten bronchitis, years ago.  I have never slept so long for so many days.  Today was just going to be one of those days. Before the family set out on their individual escapades, I spent the morning asking people to feel my head. I can usually tell when I have a fever, but never take my temperature. I just ask everyone to feel my forehead until one of them gets tired of the little game and tells me I'm warm. Satisfied with their diagnosis, I climbed back into bed, exhausted, achy, sniffly and miserable. Our dog, Lily, not used to seeing such a site, just stared at me as she sat by the bed, cocking her head as if to say, come on, the kids are gone and it's time to play. What's wrong with you? She soon realized I was going nowhere, so she jumped over the tall pile of used tissues that had gathered on the floor next to the bed and joined me. 

The good news is, that after almost an entire day in bed, I'm almost through my book club book, The Bell Jar. I managed to read about 150 pages, in between naps, and I'm clearly going to have it completed by my Friday deadline. It's started to become literature and I've come to appreciate the author's talents, but the work is so dark and disturbing. I've grown to feel pity for the character who rambles on through life feeling like a nothing while she sinks into an alarming depression. It's definitely not a feel-good book, but I do see how difficult it would be to write such a twisted tale of haunting sadness. Unless, which I believe was the case, the author lives there, too.

Somewhere between naps, sniffles and my nose that could not get air, the doorbell rang. The only one home and unable to muster the strength to answer the door, I drifted back to sleep. Sometime later, I woke to the familiar sound of cowboy boots clunking down the hall. "Did you order a book from Amazon?" My husband asked, holding a small cardboard mailer.

"No," I responded. Curious, I sat up as he removed the book from its wrapper.

Immediately, I knew. I saw the spokes and the yellow cover on the new, beautiful book. "It's my Donald Miller book. The new one!" I could barely believe my good fortune, in the middle of such an unfortunate day. "Who sent it?" I asked, still reeling in the moment.

"It looks like my mom did," he said.

"How sweet is that!" I exclaimed. How very kind for her to know how very much I've wanted to get this book and how generous of her to surprise me, for no special reason, with such a treat.

I phoned my mother-in-law to thank her personally for such a generous gift. She is an avid reader of my blog, so she was keenly aware of my quest to find this book. (Thank you again, Danna, for thinking of me in such a meaningful way. Truly, your thoughtfulness touched my heart deeply.) I cannot wait to dive into my new book!

Perhaps tomorrow should be another sick day. Who needs matching socks and clean underwear when there's a new Donald Miller book in the house? 

Comments

[KC]

See, somebody knows how to use Amazon...