Stopping by the window
And a change in perspective that comes at the mirror of true words
I stopped at the window on my way back from a midnight trip to the bathroom, where I coughed and coughed instead of sleeping. I coughed in the bathroom because it needed to be violent, to really get deep at things, and my husband’s earplugs may block the noise but not the violence, not the shaking, not the struggle for air.
I stopped at the window and looked at the sky. The stars seemed so close and so many, not a bit of congestion. I stood for several minutes at the window, next to the bed where, for a month now, I haven’t slept through the night. Next to the bedside table littered with cough drops, vapor rub, essential oils, chloraseptic, a vaporizer, my giant water bottle. Next to my husband, sometimes sleeping, sometimes patting my back after a fit of coughs, telling me not to go sleep on the couch.
I stopped at the window and felt all the drama of this midnight ritual, how I am staring into the dark instead of dreaming, and how wide awake I feel. My body feels zero rush of adrenaline, and this whole month has been a flatline of energy without highs or lows; except that the other day I threw a pillow on the floor in front of the fireplace and lay down at 9 a.m., and slept. The dog curled into me. We dozed in the sun and firelight of the best hours of the morning.
I stopped at the window because I was too frustrated to get back in bed, propped up with pillows, sitting next to my husband and trying not to wake him. And I stood there and thought about you with chronic pain; you with perpetual heartache; you with constantly crushing blows. I know we’re not supposed to compare our griefs but I thought of you and how you would love to be back in the first month of sickness, thinking there is an end soon. I thought of all that is good in my life, and how small this month is. I thought about all the complaining I do about my body that generally works and lives and feels pretty well, most of the time, all things considered. I know we’re not supposed to compare griefs but at midnight, by the window, with the witness of stars and planets and satellites all glowing the same, I made my problems smaller and I prayed for your griefs and mine, all the same.
I’m feeling better, except that I feel bad about all the complaining. I’m publishing this anyway because I do feel like the thoughts above are universal—none of us can help feeling what is happening in our own bodies, in a strong and overwhelming way. When you’re sick, it colors your world.
I can see the bend in the road, though, and I do have other things to write about besides being sick.
We all have opportunity to add or subtract from the current cultural angst—whether that culture is at the national level or right at your dining table—and this Note from
is a needed and thoughtful word on our dialogue. (You can click on it to read the full Note.)I’ve been playing around in my head with an essay titled, “In Case You Are Confused About Christian Conduct”, but Tabitha’s Note is a nice(r) summary of what I wanted to say. Making your point with the tip of a spear is not an end that justifies the means. There is a time and a season for different styles of communication, but we overcome evil with good1.
At Cultivating Oaks Press this season, we are sharing essays around the topic of Kindness, which is a fruit of the Spirit that can sound kind of limp. “Boldness” does sound better. “Speaking truth to power” may be necessary. But the line in Tabitha’s Note that is an arrow to my heart is that the stakes are too high "to sacrifice beauty on the altar of banal ‘effectiveness.’”
I wrote about the kindness of a five star review and how it revealed my own surprise at God’s lovingkindness, even though I am swimming in it.
Kindness is not always sweetness, or soft and gentle encouragements. If I have salad in my teeth—which is often the situation with teeth as big as mine—it’s not kind of you not to tell me. Take me aside in private; but please tell me.
addresses her letters to her toddler daughter and I listen in for this kind truth:Taking that item out of your Amazon cart.
Deleting the Zillow app from your phone.
Sticking with the hobby you already started.
Sticking with the job you already invested in.
Sticking with the people in your local community.
Sticking with the church you’ve attended for years.
Thanking God for today, even if it’s raining inside your soul.
Changed perspective. That’s the beauty of stopping by a mirror, rather than a window.
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:21 NKJV
I felt like I was reading my own words. I spent nearly two weeks with a terrible cold/flu. It kept me awake at night, coughing and trying not to wake my husband, propped up on pillows. My ribs are still sore, even though I haven't been sick in a couple of weeks. Anyway, all that to say, thank you for sharing your story.
I am so glad you decided to post this. You are right that when you're sick, it colors your whole world. I am always so hesitant to be honest about how hard this is, because like you said, other people have it so much worse. The way you expressed your own grief while also acknowledging the suffering of others was so beautiful! Thank you <3