I’ll keep this post brief, out of necessity.  I really only have one thing to say this week: I can’t write with sick kids.

As I sit here at my computer desk, I am barely paying attention to the words I’m typing because my mind is so consumed with the chorus of coughing that is emanating from two separate bed rooms in my apartment.  Right now, the battle for who can cough loudest is being waged between my five year old and my 17 month old.  Sadly, I think the younger one is winning.

It’s no better when they finally quiet down.  Oh no.  Then I am gripped with motherly fear that they have managed to stop breathing, even though we have gone through this exact same scenario, with an occasional change of players, every night for the past two weeks.  I stop whatever I’m doing (as I did just now, in the middle of typing this post), tiptoe into both rooms, and watch and listen as quietly as I can to hear the faint whisper of their breath going in an out.  I squint and stare at them to see the slight rise and fall of their chests.  If I had one handy, I’m sure I’d hold a mirror under their noses.

And so, as a result of being on constant watch over these small people in my charge, I haven’t had the time to sit and think about a proper topic for my weekly post here.  In all honestly, I’ve barely had the time to think about taking a proper shower and wearing proper clothing.

Does this inability to focus on one of my vocations bother me?  No.  At least, whenever it tries to, I don’t let it.  The reason is simple: My primary vocation is that of mother.  Regardless of anything else God may ever ask of me, I know this to be true.  He has called me first to be a wife and through that to be a mother.  Anyone who knows me knows this.  If caring for a sick child is ever in competition with a deadline, the sick child wins every time.  In fact, the poor deadline never had a chance in the first place.  My primary vocation comes first in everything.

I simply can’t write with sick kids, and I’m grateful to God that I can’t.  It’s nothing earth shattering, just a gentle reminder that there is no shame in knowing what I was put here to do: be a mother to my children, and, when they’re not in need of me, write.

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