Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” – Matthew 25: 37b-39
It’s good to be vertical. Especially after spending last week in bed, courtesy of a flu/respiratory virus that made Chinese water torture seem mild by comparison. One thing about an illness. There’s nothing like a nasty virus to slow you down and give you time to think and focus—whether you want to or not.
We Type A personalities don’t like slowing down. We have one speed: 90 mph with our hair on fire. Anything less seems slothful and snailish. We also tend to measure godliness with the dual “golden standard” of Punctuality and Efficiency. It’s amazing what happens to plans, calendar, and coordination when the Big Accomplishment of the Day is going two minutes without nerve-numbing nausea or a coughing spasm to wake The Dead.
Know what I found last week, lying there tickling the thermometer at 102’? I found that when life is reduced to bare minimums, bare minimums matter. A lot. Staring at the ceiling, I started a mental “Thank You List:” Chicken broth. Fluffed pillows. My eleven year-old cooking breakfast. Sun pouring through the window. Ginger Ale. Books on tape. Hot water. Music.
I learned something else from last week. Illness can be humiliating. You see, I’m a do-er. Busy, busy, busy. As one who’s rarely sick, I figure that any day I haven’t completed two or three dozen projects and planned twenty more is a “waste.” There’s nothing like being flat on your back for a week to take the wind out of that sail! No committee meetings to chair, no lessons to plan or teach, no meals, menus or multi-tasking. Even my hair hurt.
Worse than not being up and doing, active, I felt like I was failing my family. When I had to lean over a basin, too weak to stand, and let my seven year-old wash my hair, I choked on every Punctual and Efficient bone in my body! And “humbling” doesn’t come close to describing my feelings when my husband, Lord love him, spoon-fed me chicken soup. Too sick to sit up, I felt infantile and helpless. Later, I couldn’t help but wonder how those with chronic illnesses or permanent disabilities must feel. And what incredible God-sends committed care-givers are.
Being strong and healthy is a gift I take for granted far too often. I saw that it takes a special grace to allow others to care for me. And those who are ill or infirm? Are they any less valuable than those who are healthy and strong? In some cases, I wonder if the former aren’t moreso: “… I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” -- Matthew 25:40.
