We landed at 0830 German Standard Time to rain pounding on the windows. Angels clothed in Army uniforms met us and escorted us to a warm van. After flying all night and being three months pregnant, I was exhausted, cranky, and nauseous.
Once we checked into our hotel, I felt feverish; I took my temperature. 101.5 degrees beeped at me.
“I am sick. I need to rest. Please take care of the girls,” I begged.
“You are just jet-lagged, you will be fine if you stay awake until bedtime tonight,” my husband, Dave, replied.
I tried to lay down but our two girls wanted to eat and play. Dave went to get some food and I fought to stay awake. He returned two hours later without food. As I raced to the bathroom, all I heard was, “You are just jet-lagged.” He left with the girls skipping behind him to go to a friend’s home for dinner.
Instead of telling Dave how I felt, I allowed my thoughts to travel down the familiar “My Husband Doesn’t Listen” Path which turned into the “I am Alone” Lane. As my thoughts went down these well-traveled roads, the girls arrived back full of energy and stories while I wilted onto the couch. Dave took one look at me and said, “Don’t worry, you rest, I will give them baths and put them to bed.”
His kindness, understanding, and love brought my thoughts out of the “Woe is Me” mantra I was repeating and back to the “he loves me” boulevard. This boulevard was well traveled when we were dating, engaged, and early in our marriage. After two decades of marriage, I often forget to check my rearview mirror.
The next morning Dave took the girls to explore while I lay in bed. “You will feel better once you are over jet lag,” echoed in my mind.
Instead of going back down the “Pity Party” Path, I turned to the window to see the sun for the first time since we arrived. The view was full of green–trees, grass, plants, and bushes. The sun helped me feel a little better. As I rested, I resolved to tell Dave how I felt.
When they arrived back at the hotel, I told Dave I had a temperature, but he did not know what to do. We discussed our options for getting me to a doctor but decided to wait one more day. We chatted while he played with our girls and built blanket forts with a table and chairs.
The next morning my fever broke. Dave returned after going into his new workplace and told us about the many blessings God poured on us–an apartment to live in, a “hooptie” (used car) to buy, and friends with girls to play with. As he spoke, I started to feel a little better. “Recognizing the truth and counting our blessings is sometimes all we need to keep moving in the right direction.” I thought. “Every day will be better.”
