Over the weekend I was on retreat with Peter Fenner in Vancouver. On the first day, I came down with a pretty violent bug.
When I left home, my 2 year old had been getting through his own version of the bug. And my wife, at home, was coming down with the bug, and having to take care of him, while I was in Vancouver getting sick as well.
It was a mess.
What struck me at the time was the different thoughts that I was having about the sickness. I felt bad that I was away from home. I felt bad that Jen was having to deal with so much by herself. I had fleeting thoughts that my retreat was ruined because I had gotten sick, that I should have taken better care of myself, that there was something I could have done or should have done to avoid this.
But I felt lucky that I had made it all the way to Vancouver before getting sick. That I had a room to go to instead of being sick on a plane. That it was not worse--it was just a bug and I would get though it. And I felt truly blessed that there were people in Vancouver who were helping me---bringing me soup and Sprite--while there were people at home helping Jen with Lucas so that she could rest.
What I found myself noticing, and accepting, was that people get sick from time to time. That it was my turn. That this is one of the gifts of having a young child, and that you can't get the joys of parenting without some of the downsides, too.
As much as we would like to think otherwise, people get sick. And the less we resist it, the easier it seems to be to deal with it.