It hasn't exactly been the week I expected. Our family seems to have been hit with the stomach virus from hell--one that attacks viciously in the middle of the night, rips through every set of bed linens in the house in a matter of hours, and gets comfortable in one's system for several rather disgusting days. All three kids got sick; Little Brother so violently that needed medicine to stop. Jim is still trying to get it out of his system. SO, we've had a whole week of sick days, bodily fluids and sanitizing cycles.
Also, I've had a whole week of holding my babies. Long nights with them sleeping in my arms. Opportunity after opportunity to show them how deeply I love them, to tell them that everything is going to be okay. I would have given anything to take those awful moments away from each of them, but I wouldn't trade kissing their soft cheeks in the darkness, comforting them, finally, into sleep. This week has taught me that in moments of struggle, we get a particular opportunity to whisper into our children's souls the truth, you are loved. Long after they forget the sickness, they will know that neither sickness nor weakness nor being absolutely covered in filth can separate them from our love. It's exactly what happens between us and God in our darkest days.
So I'm grateful. And also I'm extremely ready for the milkshake party we're planning for the day when every last Irwin tummy is finally healed. Have a great weekend.
Instagram photo of Big Brother preparing a ginger ale for daddy. Also, I've been making things! Check back next week for a fun tutorial.