The One Where God Made Me Sick

…the title drew you in, didn’t it?  ;-) Mission accomplished!  Well.  Mission started anyway.

Let me be honest, and debunk that title, now that it got your attention.

I am not one of those “kooky” Christians who looks for a demon behind every life circumstance.  Oh believe you me!  There is a real and ever-present reality to the fact that we wage war daily in unseen places, but some things?  Some things happen because “it is what it is”, and we live in a fallen world.

In my case?  A world that involves germs.

And while I’m certainly no theologian?  I do NOT infact, believe, that God “makes people” sick.  And certainly didn’t MAKE me sick today.

But.

As is His way.  He did use it… to get my attention.

He is a funny guy, that God.  And I truly believe that along with every other good thing he “is”:  He has a brilliant sense of humor!  How could He not.  I mean.  Really.  Look at us.  I’d be laughing all of the time! 

So back to this sickness “gig” that came my way.

I started to feel it over the weekend.  That burn in your chest.  Not the kind that comes from a workout.  The kind that hurts bad… not hurts good.  Each restless night gave way to a morning with a new symptom, and more intense version of the previously existing symptoms.

Ouch.  It felt by this morning as though I had swallowed nails.  And my mojo?  It must have taken off on a vacation to somewhere fantastic along with my energy.  Because I had none.  Of either. 

Never being one to take things lying down (pun intended)… I tried to stubbornly launch into my day today.  I had things to do, don’t you know.  An ACTUAL gig for work (ironically a speaking gig).  Kids to ready for school.  A house to clean.  A killer workout on the horizon. 

Only one small problem.  

I couldn’t move.  Literally.  Commandeered my kiddos morning routines from bed.  And finally made it out of bed and downstairs only to find myself out of breath and curling up on the couch.  Where I stayed.  For the better portion of my morning.

With some… eh hem… encouragement ;-) from my husband, who is fully aware of and fully capable of de-railing my stubborn tendencies… I was doctors office-bound.

The verdict after whispering my way through the clinic visit:  acute laryngitis plus.  (The plus being an additional upper respiratory infection on top of the infection attacking my vocal chords and throat.). 

SUPER!

The get well plan?  No talking for 3-4 days to rest my vocal chords.  And lots of rest. 

Two things I am no good at.  Even better.

I struggle with rest.  I like to move.  My husband teases that I only know two speeds:  go fast, (I believe he has used the word”spazzy” to describe my personhood from time-to-time) or stop completely (as in sleep.).

Fair enough.  I won’t argue there.

Good news is I have not only a great husband, but good friends who are making the rounds checking in on me, reminding me that if the “shoes were switched” – I’d be “all  up in their grills” making sure they rest.  (Yeah.  We do talk kinda gangster sometimes)

And as I forced myself to adhere to this whole “resting” thing… I heard Him speak. 

Yeah.  Him.  That funny God-guy.

You see, He’s been prompting and prodding me into a quiet season overall lately.  Teaching me a lot about “less is more”, how to “Esse Quam Viderie” (latin phrase that means “to be instead of to seem to be.") and within that?  How to make my words count. 

And by count , I am not referring to quantity.

My husband and I have a fiery relationship.  Its not always easy – but I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Its us.  And God made us “us”.  And fire?  It is where refinement comes from, right?  So be it.  We will be the fiery ones.

That just means we get to learn a lot more and a lot more quickly and in more intense ways than some other relationships.  (that’s what I remind myself on days when I’m feeling the burn, anyway) ;-)

So two weeks ago… we had a fiery week.  I suppose in a moment of humility, we could both say it was the perfect storm of some outside life circumstances, sprinkled with a little “I’m very tired”, amongst other of daily-life “stuff” in the normal range.

But I unleashed a lot of words during this week.  And my words gave way to his words and we continued to add fuel to the fire until we were both sporting some nice burns.

They weren’t malicious words.  They were well meaning and well-intentioned… but you know what they say about that road to hell right?  Its paved with “good intentions.” 

We figured it out.  Saw it through.  We always do in “Team Bass.”  And as is true to our fiery nature individually and within our marriage:  the week of intensity gave way to… growth.  New things learned.  New freedoms and insights we needed to figure out and maybe couldn’t have had we not lived in the fire for the week.

One of the things I took away from this week of fire, is how frequently I am my own worst enemy.  My expectations.  My feelings.  My ingrown focus.  And when I start to speak from that place… well.  Its just. Not Good. 

Why?  Because well-intentioned or not… if I am speaking from a place of focus on me – and unleashing it on another human being… its going to cause hurt.

So chalk another one up on my growing list of “learning curves”.  I felt very convicted that I needed to speak less, and pray more.  To not set up camp in my every whimsical feeling, and certainly not report every of those feelings to a husband who is working his tale off every day for his family, only to come home to a report of everything I wanted to let him know was wrong in my life and therefore needed to be changed/ fixed in our relationship.

Now.  Realizing these things is step one.  Step two, is walking them out.  (Whats that verse about faith without deeds being… oh what was it?  Dead?)

Enter my sickness.

And as I lay on the floor of our family room tonight, maybe slightly pouting because I literally was unable to participate on the level I wanted to with my family… and absolutely unable to speak… I’ll tell you what.  I had an amazing moment.

I Listened.

Truly listened.

Ya know what I heard?  A daddy who, after a tough day at work, came home and pulled up a stool to the counter to do homework with his daughter.  Not dutifully either, he was like… actually enjoying it!  As was she!  They were laughing.  Making jokes.  Challenging each other.  Having fun. 

And I heard the worship music I had on in the background.  Reminding me of the goodness of My God.  A God who sees me.  Hears me.  Pursues me.  And provides everything I need.

And I heard my other daughter upstairs… singing to herself… as she does nearly every day.  Singing and singing and singing as she did her chore for the day.

And I heard the soup in the crock put bubbling and steaming.

And I heard the fireplace crackling.

And I heard the wind hitting the outter walls of our home…

And I heard Him.  Heard Him remind me in His own whisper: "I am here.  And look at all of these gifts surrounding you!"  

…oh how I felt so much peace and so full of joy.  And all because I was forced to lay down… and just.  Listen.

So, Laryngitis?  Turns out is not such a bad “gig”.  Infact?  I’m just gonna pretend that I’m part of a “silent retreat” of sorts for the next few days.  Oh yes.  I’ll probably have to be reminded frequently to “be still”, “sit still”, and “just listen”… old habits die hard!  But I’m gonna ride this sick thing out… and see what other “whispers” come my way. 

Because whether in a whisper or a roar, what that funny God guy has to say – is usually very. Very. Important.  And I don’t want to miss it…