While yesterday was great - I spent the late afternoon and evening with some of my dearest, fun friends - I spent an hour or so falling apart before that. I bawled, I carried on as only I can, I lamented my BIG health - the frustrations, the actuality of it all, having to get off the only medicine that has ever helped me - the energy issues - and my little health - catching cold - being so bitterly behind in my house and yard - and my lack of sleep.
Psalms 127:2b says "God grants sleep to those He loves." I commented that maybe God hates me. Jamie looked at me aghast and said, "Do NOT say things like that. You CAN'T mean that." Well, of COURSE I don't mean it. Isn't he used to the bizarre things that pour out of my mouth after 22 years?! It was a Robynn comment because who could actually believe that every wakeful night is a curse from God? The verse is often quoted but taken out of its overall meaning.
So, then I spent another hour carrying on about how he should know that's what I meant and how I was just having a moment of despair and where could I go if not to him and how I was weary with pain and so on and so forth in diatribe manner and more tears and laments of how I'm just T-I-R-E-D! I was pretty sure he regretted saying ANYthing but he hung in there, which is no small feat.
When we got home from the party I was done-in and starting to feel worse. The kids had headed out to sleep-overs and I longed for my bed. And it's in those moments, when you think you're almost there and nothing else better happen, that clocks fall off the wall and smash you in the head and knock you to the floor. Irony, really. It was our huge wall clock that has "The Reilly Family - established 1986" emblazoned on it.
What kind of weird message from the Lord was this?! Remember what you have to be thankful for? Don't stack stuff on the "crappy" chic cabinet (Jamie likes to call it that instead of "shabby" chic 'cause that's just the way he is, being Mr. Irreverent and all) because you might bump it and cause the clock to fall off? Here's a concussion and that should help you sleep if you don't think I love you?
I was still sorting out the meaning an hour later with a cartoon-sized bump on my head, an ice-pack, and visual disturbances. And that's how I fell asleep. But, hey, I slept!