My sweet husband, however, was my hero. I had committed to taking a meal to a family that had lost their husband/father, so he cooked and delivered it for me, taking the kiddos with him. There was quiet and actually a little rest, which made me feel a little better. He even slept on the couch and got the kids all ready to go this morning, so that I could stay in bed until the last possible minute. He joked with me that I must have "the man cold", which he tells me is much worse than the normal variety.
The thing is, I don't give him very much sympathy when he's sick. As I try to be a martyr and power through feeling yucky, I expect him to do the same. But sometimes, I'm brought down. I feel guilty. I think of all I SHOULD be doing. And he is there, with gentle reminders to take care of myself and rest. He makes the space for me to do that by picking up all the responsibilities. He is so much kinder and more grace-filled with me.
And I feel grateful. Grateful for his care, and for the reminder that I don't have to do it all alone, even on a good day. I can't save the world; I can't even save my household from erupting into fits and tears. But when it's all said and done, we hold each other, and we realize that we, in turn, are held by God. And that is a strength greater than I can ever have on my own.
2 Corinthians 12:10
Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.