Life Is What Happens When You're Not Blogging

In my last post, remember that full day of events planned for Sunday? Well, none of it happened. Oh, except for my dad's reunion march with the graduating class at Baccalaureate. Nope, we've had a rotating batch of sick kids here since Saturday, laying around on the couches, moaning with high fevers. None of us have been going anywhere.

We did have a great visit with my folks. They left on Monday and made it home to Ohio uneventfully. They were feeling fine as of this morning, and I took consolation in the scoop from friends that only the kids seem to get this one. This morning, however, I was shocked to find Papa Rooster home when I woke up. "Why are you here?" I asked. "Guess," he muttered.

So I've been doing my best Florence Nightingale impression for days now--taking temperatures, dispensing Tylenol, getting drinks, making tea, serving chicken noodle soup, and giving breathing treatments to Bitty Bantam, who's having congestion too. AND I'm doing all the kids' chores in addition to my own--before this, I can't remember the last time I had to unload the dishwasher or take out the trash and recycling! Makes me very grateful and appreciative for how much they help out daily.

So pray for me, y'all! (Even though I'm not from the South, is it OK if I say "y'all"? We just don't have any equivalent up here--somehow "you all" or "you guys" or "youse guys," as they say in Chicago, doesn't have quite the same warm, friendly feeling!) I think I'm feeling a little achy!

I'm just grateful that we're getting it over with before next week, which is the Big Week of dress rehearsals and the opening night of Tom Sawyer!

Did I mention prayer as part of my F. Nightingale act? Around here that's served up with the Tylenol and chicken noodle soup. Tonight when I said I was afraid I might be coming down with it too, Bantam 11 said, "I just prayed for Dad upstairs--shall I pray for you too?" He did, laying his hand on my shoulder, and it was so sweet--to my ears and to the Lord's, I'm sure.

The other day in the car this same son asked me, "How come when I'm sick, it's always easier to confess my sins, but when I'm not sick, I don't really want to?" We had an interesting discussion about that one, but he's on to something:

James 5:16 Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

Update: Thanks for your prayers, everyone. This morning after spending some time with my alarm clock, Bitty Bantam, I left him with Papa Rooster (who's improving) and went back to bed and slept till 11 a.m.--and now I'm feeling fine! Thank you, Lord.