Six Good Figs: Choosing laughter in the madness

We had all been pretty well since arriving in jakarta, despite the constant threats that we would all get sick with the various gastronomic bugs. Then last Monday happened...

It was CJ first. Vomiting. Temps. Miserable. Off to bed. More vomiting.

LM claimed he felt sick. The wise mother said, " No you don't. It's just unpleasant hearing someone being sick. You're fine!" Yet it appears this was hopeful thinking...

At 11am the middle two started in what was gold medal worthy synchronization! One of them from the top bunk, to the bottom bunk, to the trundle bed, and then a trail from beds to bathroom. A l-o-n-g trail.

Picture the largest amount of vomit you have ever seen being placed in another bathroom sink at the same time. Literally.

My man and I met in the hall. We could not stop laughing. Not even to contain ourselves long enough at that moment to comfort our very unwell boys. It was just too revolting and ridiculous to do anything else. Though I wouldn't have minded popping back into bed and going back to sleep...

So my wonderful husband, who is entirely unable to smell, started cleaning up in one room. I sat with my other boy, the one who hates being sick (probably because he very rarely is). We sat on the floor, him trying not to be sick (again), me convincing him he would feel better if he was. Rubbing his back. Talking in low tones.

And I sat there thinking, this is love.

Right here. This is what it looks like. Trying to coax your son to vomit.

Because if i wasnt here, who would do that for him? Are we able to count the number of children who do not have such a person in their life? I sat there, trying to put a number on it, feeling sad that the tally would have way too many zeros.

We made it back to bed. Did I mention how wonderful my husband is in these situations?

Then the little one started to roam around the house. Apparently. Have I mentioned I'm a heavy sleeper? I did know about it at 3am when a quantity of vomit was placed by him onto our bedroom floor. Thanks darling, let's get you cleaned up. Another chance to love.

Kind of poetic that it was the correct birth order.

So began a week of sickness. And opportunities to love. Serve.

And above all else, with the Lord's help, keep my sense of humour. Because without it, I'd curl up and cry!