My beloved Captain Cavedweller is really good about sharing things.
He shares his sense of humor, his Lifesavers, and his love freely with me.
Sometimes he shares things I’d rather he kept to himself. In fact, twice in the past three months he’s shared his germs with me. The first time was some sort of horrid stomach virus that kept rearing its ugly head for almost nine weeks before it finally hit the road.
We’d both been feeling good for only a few weeks when he came home with a sore throat. Of course, he shared that with me, too.
So for the last week, I’ve pretty much been stuck in bed, feeling like a ton of bricks sat on my lungs while I coughed and sneezed myself silly.
My parents called on a day when I could barely croak enough to answer the phone and immediately decided I was on death’s doorstep.
They called every single day in the last week to check up on me and make sure I was getting better.
The day I felt the worst, my 80-something-year-old mother threatened to get in the car, make the three-plus hour drive to our house and take me to the doctor if I didn’t sound better the following day.
While she blustered and tossed out threats, I smiled between coughing fits. My mother hasn’t driven a car for almost twenty years, is nearly blind, and is almost a foot shorter than me. The thought of her careening up the freeway, wheeling into our driveway and forcing me into the car left me quite amused.
And it made me feel very loved.
Behind the bluster is a whole lot of care and concern and motherly love and for that I’m grateful.
And I’m grateful that love and grace intersect each other with such amazing beauty.
