The flu blew through our house at the end of last week and into this one. My turn for the couch was Sunday. The worst symptom of the day was the intense headache which disabled one from comfortably lying on the couch, watching an old movie and enjoying the fact that one is sick enough that one's husband is doing the dishes.
I really HATE being sick - it feels so unproductive, so useless, so dark. It was a beautiful autumn day, but it still felt dark inside. The next morning I was feeling much better and continued my study of Psalm 23. I had some fresh insights into verse 4: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and staff, they comfort me." I don't mean to imply that I was dying! I was thinking more about the valley. Our cabin sits in a valley between two mountains. We joke about how long it takes for the sunshine to be "piped in" in the mornings. As I thought about that dark, valley feeling of being sick, it dawned on me that the darkness does last longer in the valleys than it does on the plains. And yet, once the sun finally reaches the valley, it is not as taken for granted as it is in on the plains. The light is received with far more joy. It is not overlooked as commonplace but hoped for, anticipated. Though I HATE being sick, I am thankful that whenever I come out of a dreadful period of illness, how thankful I am for the light that shines on my spirit after a dark place.
My flesh says that I would only ever want to live on the plains with the sun continually on my face. But I know that there are things that I learn from the valleys that are balm for my spirit, too.
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