Illness Induced Reflection

After what seems like ages of taking care of sick little ones, it seems like those awful little germs have taken up temporary residence in me. I am experiencing the out-of-head experience that comes with a bad cold/flu as well as those potent OTC medications. You know the feeling of which I speak...you're aware of what's going on but your a little not quite there. (although sometimes by not being "quite there" you are able to be where you should have been all a long) I refer to this condition as IIR or Illness Induced Reflection. It seems like in this state, conclusions are able to be reached and appreciated in a way that are often overlooked in a healthy functioning state. Some might compare IIR to being high, though I can not comment on that.
So here I am-- in intense IIR. As pitiful as I feel, the reflection is beginning to set in. I look (and listen) around my modest suburban home. I hear the sometimes loud sounds of my children and husband. I see stacks (and I mean stacks) of freshly laundered clothes on the hearth, waiting to be put away. Crumbs of whatever the baby ate for dinner, thrown from his highchair are now littering the kitchen floor. A calendar strewn with graffiti hang on the door reminding me of the unendless list of "to dos" that await me for the coming week. Ordinarily I would be unable to relax at the computer with such distractions, tonight in my advance case of IIR I find it all inspiring.
My modest home is MY MODEST HOME. In an age where people are losing their homes left and right, I have my safe, little cave to come home to. It is not large or fancy, the paint is smudged and the doors tend to stick. But this is my home. A home that I have, not because I deserve it, but because God saw it in His plan for me to live here. I hear the sometimes constant choir of voices. The bickering, the whining, the tattletaling--- I sometimes want to bury my head under a rock. But these are the voices, whether happy or sad, that God entrusted to MY care. Voices that I prayed for long before I heard, and that I think of every moment of every day. These voices I must not take for granted, because so many people are praying for little souls to enter their lives, yet keep coming up empty handed. As for those stacks of laundry-- they never stop coming. There is always more to do. The faster it gets done, the faster it piles up. This is yet another way that my Lord has shown His love to me. He keeps my family clothed and warm. We are able to wash our clothes and keep them nice. We do not have to wear the same thing day after day. We have the joy and benefit of being able to CHOOSE what we WANT to wear. And yes, the floor may be littered with crumbs that need to be swept up. This gets under my skin more than anything. But what do the crumbs on the floor mean? God has provided my family with food a plenty. So much, than when some is dropped, it is not missed. It simply becomes garbage that is to be swept up and thrown away. In a world where more people are hungry than not, how can I not look at the crumbs on the floor as a blessing? The beckoning of the calender will always await. It will feel like there are not enough hours in the day to accomplish all that there is. But just as my Lord has provided everything for me and my family that we need, so too, will he provide to us a way to succeed. When I am able to sit back and take a deep breath and see how God has never let me down, I am able to trust that He will carry me when I get weary.
It is all in God's plan. This I am sure of. So maybe God sent this illness to me as a means to tap into my wonderful IIR and realize the gifts that are before me everyday. The gifts that I'm not entitled to, but given nonetheless.