Gatorade, saltines, and heavy hearts

It started Thursday night.

At 5:00 in the evening, Travis complained that his cheeks hurt and asked to go to bed. He had a high fever. Travis slept 15 hours and spent much of Friday napping.

As Benjamin got ready for school on Friday morning, he threw up. His face was pale, his body was weak, and he threw up 5 more times over the course of the day. 

I felt overwhelmed. Everyone wanted my full attention. Travis wanted to sleep on my shoulder. Benjamin wanted to cuddle and talk with me in his room. Libby-- who felt fine-- wanted to play. I wished I could be there for each of them at every moment. However, I also needed to mop vomit off of floors, wash soiled clothing, and frequently let out the dog (we got a dog last week... more on that later). And then there was the rotating order of Gatorade, saltines, and medicine. If only 100% of me could be in 4 places at once.

During a rare quiet moment that morning, I checked the news. My heart dropped.

And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

 -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

My soul aches for the families involved in this tragedy. I pray that, in time, they find comfort.

Suddenly, I realized how small my burdens are and how great my blessings are. I am thankful to be able to care for my children, to cuddle with them, to have them call for me when they need me. That could change at any moment, and I'm going to relish this day-- vomit & fevers-- for all that it's worth.