Doug shows me a lot of support (especially this weekend as I tried new activities). He encourages me and does not let me back down from a challenge when he knows I am capable of conquering it. When my emotions get scrambled and irrational, he keeps a firm hold on the situation and points me in the right direction.
Doug is one of my anchors.
The other anchor is, of course, the Lord.
Doug has been very sick this whole evening.
Flu bug to the extreme.
Worse than I've ever had it in my life, I'm pretty sure.
It is hard to see your hubby in pain and to not be able to do much for him other than rub his back and bring him water. I wanted to take his pain away. I wanted to remove the sickness from him so that he could sleep peacefully tonight and regain his strength.
I just didn't know how.
The only sick person I've ever cared for is myself.
My anchor all of a sudden lost its weight. Doug was now the one who needed support. Later in the evening, when the sickness was at it's peak, he asked me to find someone to give him a priesthood blessing. I literally had to force myself to walk out the door to find someone (we still don't have home teachers, otherwise I would have called them). I have trouble taking initiative when it comes to asking other people for help, and my husband was not in a state where he could encourage me to be strong and take the initiative. I had to do it myself, out of love and the desire to support him.
I don't like feeling vulnerable.
I feel uncomfortable letting others see me in a vulnerable state.
Letting them know I need help.
I don't like it.
It's amazing what love can drive you to do.
It was listening to his agony that drove me out the door.
I felt a bit lost as I went around to a couple neighbors, searching for someone to administer the blessing. I was not surprised when the tears started flowing as I knocked on one young mother's door and found that her husband was not home to help, as I had hoped he would be.
It must have been quite a sight for my next-door neighbors to open their door and see me... twisting a paper towel in my hands, eyes puffy and red, lungs trying desperately to keep my breathing even.
It was humbling (and hard) for me to ask for help from people when I was in such an emotional and tear-stained state.
I fear feeling vulnerable.
The evening has been draining, but I've been pushing through it because I knew I needed to support my husband when he needed me. He is now tucked away in bed, and I hope that the worst is over (and that I won't start showing symptoms myself... it's going to be a long night). I am glad that I can find the strength to support him, even when I feel emotionally and mentally weak. I just have to remember that Doug is not the only anchor in my life. At times like these, it is comforting to know that I can get down on my knees and turn to my other Anchor. The Lord will always be there for both of us, no matter how weak we feel.