Yesterday I had to tell my boys I couldn't sword fight with them because I was too tired. It broke my heart. They were irritated that I was tired, so I told them, "I'm sick today."
Little boys love their mamas, so then they were all attentive, hugs and kisses, etc. James asked, "What's making you sick?"
I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Fibromyalgia."
"Well, it just makes me tired sometimes."
Then Jonathan wanted to know how to say it. "What's that word again?"
We sounded it out together, and he got it, and he was happy.
But I wasn't. I didn't want to have to teach my four-year-old that word. I wish he didn't have to know that word. And I wish he didn't have to deal with all the things that word represents in his little life. It makes me very angry.
Being incapable of anything but sitting around yesterday (grumble-grumble), I had a few seconds between the blessed moments of time spent with my boys to read a portion of the 60-some posts awaiting my perusal in Google Reader.
And my faithful God spoke straight to my sagging heart just when I needed it the most. I want to pass His encouragement on to you, and I want to say thank you, Michelle, for your timely post. You're a dear friend.