Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The other night I had a moment. My youngest finally came down with the stomach bug I invited into our home over two weeks ago. (It has graciously gone from me, to my oldest, then my youngest and I'm begging God that it will leave before spending time with my husband...)
Anyway, it was early in the morning (1:00 am...ish..type of early). Little one had crawled into bed with us. I was hanging onto the 5 inches at the edge of the bed which is my sleeping space whenever children join us. So there I was, right arm lodged under the pillow my sweet baby slept on (this keeps me anchored to the bed so even though my hiney is hanging over the edge I'm still "attached" to the surface of the bed) The dog was anchoring my feet under the covers at the foot of the bed. B was snuggled up in the crook of my body and before you know it...the cat jumps on the bed and curls up on the rolling hill of my hip.
I laid there in the darkness feeling the "points" that were "anchoring" me. I kept thinking about what my body represented at that very moment. Was I furniture? or simply an extension of the furniture? I was frustrated and grouchy from lack of sleep...or the thought of lack of sleep. I mean I brought forth life from this soft, squishy, mobius, flesh covered frame? Am I nothing more than and object? I have rights!
I felt the warmth generated from the body of the youngest life form and heard his gentle breathing. He was calm and peaceful in his sleep. Her hairy highness warmed my feet, even though she was snoring, and the purring of the high priestess of hairballs was in fact soothing on my hip.
This body of mine, in all of its imperfections, for this brief moment offered the anchor of comfort...and it was good.