Stuffed up and wound tight

Nothing makes me face my humanity as quickly as a common illness. When sickness fogs my head and lungs causing my temperature to rise above 100 degrees (and I'm normally a 97.5 girl), I tend to melt into someone more fragile than I like being.

I have not brushed my hair in more than two days and have worn the same pair of flannel pajamas since 11:00 a.m. Wednesday.  I am not a pretty sight to behold. I am, however, thankful that I am finally feeling strong enough to shower without fainting. That's a sign of recovery.

One of the biggest obstacles I face when I am sick is not the stuffy nose and other irritating symptoms that take over my body. It's my inability to accept that my body needs to heal that holds me back. Sickness makes me feel weak...needy...wimpy...and guilty. I like to believe that I can think myself well and push through the pain...do and be all things.

It doesn't work that way. And because it doesn't work that way, I tend to allow frustration to fester until I'm not just stuffy...I'm uptight and stuffy. That's not a fun combination.

As I was reading through Scripture verses tonight, I came across Psalm 131:1-3 - A song for pilgrims assembling to Jerusalem.

Lord, my heart is not proud;
      my eyes are not haughty.
   I don’t concern myself with matters too great
      or too awesome for me to grasp.
Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself,
      like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk.
      Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

 O Israel, put your hope in the Lord—
      now and always.

In my moments of wanting control and feeling weak when I'm not at the top of my game, I am reminded that pride is my enemy. I can call it "being strong," but I know better. It's pride...and it's both silly and dangerous for me to hold on it. I need to echo the prayer above and not allow my heart to feel proud and instead be quieted and calmed by truth and grace.