I write this post from my bed where I've spent most of my time since Friday. Alternately writhing dramatically with stomach cramps and/or vomiting, it's been a rough few days.
The kicker is that I chose to get nasty sick during a weekend when I was home alone with the kids – and a weekend of mad flooding (yes, including our basement, again) all around us. Through the window I could see our creek, churning milk chocolate brown far beyond it's banks.
Many of our neighbors lost their fences, driveways, crops, and more. The roads are washed out all around us. A culvert from out in our farm fields turned up in our pasture, at least 200 yards downstream and sideways (and uphill) from where this creek normally dwells.
To say the least it's been a crazy few days.
But these kids.
Oh, my. They were amazing. Cooking, tending sheep and chickens, chasing wayward cows out of our yard (after the neighbor's fences washed away in the flood), washing dishes, swamping the flooded basement – they did it all.
Sage in particular rose to the challenge with grace and skill. He was amazing. (Or as I told him, "Sage, you're working like an Amish boy!" And with all of our visits to Mary and her boys he knew just what I meant and glowed with pride. Because dang do those boys work. And so did he.)
And then a dear friend showed up yesterday even though I lied and told her I was fine to help clean house and care for my kids. She brought lunch and games for Sage and Lu and tea and remedies for me, and spent the afternoon here so that I could rest.
I couldn't be more grateful.
The bouquet was a gift from my Lupine, the flower gardener. They look like she picked them up at a fancy flower shop instead of from our flood-soaked yard.
A rose from the ancient bush alongside the house, and annuals we planted together in her garden from starts we bought from Mary. (Planted by her youngest, Levi.)
So much sweetness.
And I wonder at who planted those roses all these years ago and what this farm and their life here must have been. I know that the family that settled this farm raised five kids under this tiny roof, growing tobacco where I've planted kale.
I wonder what worries filled their hearts when the gardens looked like mine does today, filled with standing water, or when the creek crested it banks with such fierceness.
I wonder if they'd have had the luxury of a weekend in bed with the flu or if life would require them to get up and push through.
And I'm grateful again. For this life, for returning health, for friends and family and…