Sick in bed

The stomach bug hit our house this week.  I was victim #4, with victim #5 and 6 following in hot pursuit.  Good thing dogs and birds don't get stomach bugs. I won't go into graphic details, but it has been an interesting week.  In the midst of  all the washing of sheets, however, I had a glorious moment.

I was curled up in bed under piles of covers, when Gracie came to check on me.  Gracie is our very large, very furry, very active black mutt.  Thankfully, she is two plus a few months, and beginning to show some signs of calming, the first hints of a maturity that have been noticeably absent from her first two years of life.  She isn't one to linger and dote - she's way too busy for that.  But, noticing that I was not myself, she hopped up next to me and lay unusually still to keep me company.  

Next came Samba. Samba is Gracie's alter-ego.  Samba is small, and taffy colored, with lots of floppy hair and a bit of an underbit.  He likes nothing better than a human being who will sit still for long stretches of time.  When he finds one, he will crawl over books, or newspapers, or pillows to reach the Lap.  Then, he will turn a slow circle, settle himself, and remain still and content until the Lap moves on.  Samba came to the edge of the bed, looked up at me and whined. He wasn't going to miss out on this moment.  I picked him up.

Next came Adam.  Adam is my 8 year old son, a lot like Gracie in temperment, though with Samba's floppy blond hair. "Mommy, are you all right?"  He climbs up on the bed and chats with me about his day, and I hear all these little details that normally don't come out in an after school how-was-your-day conversation.  "Can I bring my dinner up and eat it next to you in bed?"  "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Ad. Why don't you check on me after dinner." "OK", he said, running off.  7 minutes later,  Adam is back. "I'm done, Mom.  Can I bring you some stuffed animals?" "Sure, Ad."  Four large armfuls later we are joined by Snakey, Spottie, Paddington, and a host of other furry friends. I am literally buried in dogs and cuddly toys.  

Next thing I know Adam is dragging in an old mattress from the hallway.  It had been propped up, waiting for some strong person to feel motivated to carry it to the basement.  I had almost got it into the dumpster when we did some renovations months back, but I made the mistake of giving my husband a book of survival stories from the Greensborough Tornado, and now the old mattress is going to the basement for "Tornado Protection".  I tell you the truth - I am NOT getting under than old thing. Particularly not after this week.   

Adam pulls the mattress into our room, and props it against my bed.  "I know, Mommy.  We can slide the animals down it."  "OK, Ad.  We can pretend they're training for the olympic bobsled event."  He runs and gets tupperware containers and box tops to slide them in.  I  lie flat and hold the contestants at the starting line, while he yells "Start!" and declares the winner at the finish line.  Samba watches happily. Gracie eats the contestants.

Next comes Johanna, home from dinner at a friends. "What are you doing?"  "We're having olympic bobsled races."  "Can I play?" "Sure. Come on in..."  

Finally, up comes Grandma.  "What are you all doing up here?" "Bobsled races."  She sits in a chair and joins in the chatter.  Two dogs, two kids, my Mom, and me, all chatting away in my bedroom. How often does that happen?

I'm getting tired now, and give the "five minutes" warning.  Finally they go, and I sink back into the deliciousness of silence, darkness, and the comfort of my pillows.

What am I usually doing at this time of day? Getting home from work. Bustling around.  Cooking dinner.  Returning phone calls. Badgering A and J about homework or chores.  Hurrying everyone along to the next thing that needs doing.

Today, I simply did nothing. I simply lay still, and look what came of it.  All that creativity, all that belonging, all that chatter and fun, simply because I stopped moving long enough for something else to happen.  Like Samba waiting for a lap, my kids and my animals, once I slowed down long enough, came running to me and jumped into my space.  Even though it was tiring, it was lovely.  Really, really lovely.   As I sat there reflecting, I noticed how it WAS the children and the animals and my aging mother who showed up for the party.  Everyone else was too busy.  

"Let the little children come to me, 

and do not hinder them, 

for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." 

-- Jesus