Sick Days

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

It's the season for colds, flu, and the stomach bug. Everyone seems to be reminding us to get a flu shot, wash our hands, cover our sneezes, take probiotics, and do everything we can to prevent spreading germs and getting sick. And, of course, these steps are important and beneficial. But the fact is, because we have children (who don't have the best germ-avoiding habits) and busy households, we simply won't be able to avoid all the germs this winter.

The idea that a complete avoidance of sickness may even be possible is best suited to the childless and those who can somehow isolate themselves this winter. Recently such a person informed my husband that he had only taken one sick day off of teaching in the last fifteen years. Ironically, my husband had the stomach bug the previous week. If you get vomited on by a distressed toddler every two hours for a whole night, it's pretty hard to avoid getting sick. As parents of six, including little ones, we get sneezed on, coughed on, vomited on, etc. with some frequency.

While trying to minimize the spread of germs and preventing illness in the household is a worthwhile pursuit to be incorporated into our lifestyle, there is also something to be said for expecting the sickness of our children and ourselves, embracing that, and serving the sick with generosity. Protecting one's health can allow one to serve God with energy. But the inability to prevent illness in our home can also allow us to serve God.

Let us remember that visiting the sick is one of the seven corporal works of mercy recognized by our Church as a particular way of doing God's will. In our tradition, we have many wonderful saints who dedicated their lives to caring for the sick, especially those who were ostracized because of their illness. The Church began hospitals to care for the sick who were unable to attain adequate care. One sociologist has suggested that the Church flourished when Christians cared for each other, rather than isolating themselves and ignoring the needy, in the midst of plagues. There are also many saints recognized for embracing their own illness, seeing it as an opportunity to grow closer to God by uniting their suffering to Christ's cross. And even now, many Catholic organizations and religious orders seek to provide care for the sick.

Despite this positive view of embracing sickness and care for the sick, there is a certain normal trepidation when a child comes home from school with the news that his classmate vomited next to him in school that morning or when a child lets you know that nine of 17 students were absent due to flu. As much as we might recognize the good of embracing the cross through our own and our children's sickness, we also know that this will throw off our schedule - the pressing deadlines, the regular commitments, etc. We can anticipate additional loads of laundry, trying to fit in trips to the pediatrician or urgent care, missing out on fun events we've planned, and trying to nurse everyone back to health, often while also actually being sick ourselves.

It's not easy, and it's not fun. If we approach it merely with a spirit of resignation to our duty, that is completely understandable. And if our kids watch a little more television than normal in that extra-long month of February, no one can really blame us. This aspect of parenting was not something we sought out when we dreamed of having children in our lives. We never laid awake at night envisioning scrubbing the carpet with paper towels and disinfecting wipes or imagining rearranging our busy day in order to get a strep or flu test for our children.

And yet, the fact that we would not choose caring for the sick or being sick ourselves is precisely why this becomes such a great opportunity for us. When we are physically exhausted, yet not able to have a "sick day," we may perform our tasks with resignation rather than enthusiasm. But that is a beautiful thing; the human body is amazing. Even tired and weak, we can and will provide for the needs of our children. We may be grumpy, but we will not abandon them. Sometimes uniting ourselves to Christ and his cross means struggling up that hill to Calvary, barely able to move but doing it anyway because we must.

Even when we are not ourselves sick, it's understandable not to be cheerful about a child's 103 temperature or being homebound when we have errands to run. Sickness can be sanctifying, but we don't choose it for our children, nor do we desire the disruption in our own lives. Yet this is a great opportunity for us to die to ourselves and our own plans and ambitions, and to focus on what God is calling us to at that moment. Our compassion, generosity, and calm concern can also become a great witness to our children about the Christian life. Neglecting our household tasks to spend the day holding a sick toddler is just as much a way of doing God's will as the dishes, and sometimes, this is precisely God's will for us at the moment: to live in the mess, extending his love and charity to those who are suffering in our own home.

If we can see the value of caring for the sick and accepting our own sickness, then we should also be able to extend our concern for others around us who are suffering. We know that this is the season for illness, and sometimes we know that our friends are in need. Many people go far out of their way to avoid those who are sick, but, as Christians, we should make efforts to go out of our way to help those who are sick, even beyond our own houses. (With exceptions, of course, for those who are already immune-compromised or have serious reason to avoid sickness.) We can offer to drop off some Gatorade or Tylenol, stop by the bakery to bring fresh-baked bread, deliver a flower bouquet, or make some homemade soup for those we know are sick. If we are truly concerned about introducing sickness to our own home, it's easy to leave such care packages outside someone's front door. We shouldn't let the modern inclination purposely to avoid those who are sick become our own perspective. The germy winter months can seem long and miserable, but we can still make good come of them with a spirit of Christian generosity and willingness to embrace the cross.

In Praise of Noise

In our engagement year and the early years of our marriage, my husband and I often had graduate studies work dates at noisy coffee shops. He always settled into his work immediately, voraciously reading his assignments for the next class. I, on the other hand, had to dig out a pair of earplugs from my bag before I could hope to have a chance of concentrating on Thomas Aquinas or Karl Rahner. 15 years and six kids later, I recently found myself working on a book review at a cafe, and I was delighted to discover that I still had a functional pair of earplugs in my bag! In fact, I needed them. I would have been headed to a quieter spot soon if I hadn't found them.

A few years ago, an older, childless friend of mine dropped in on our family in the morning of a non-school day. Four of my kids had been quietly, and with great concentration, playing with Legos at the dining room table for an hour or so. My friend and I were chatting away when a fight broke out over who was using what brick for what purpose, etc. My attempts to diffuse the situation were ignored, the loud argument resumed, and I eventually went back to talking to my friend. Rather than responding, however, she interjected, "I can see you LIKE noise! It's not even bothering you!"

I know she wasn't trying to offend me, but, well, I was offended, especially when she blamed it on my midwestern upbringing, suggesting that most parents on the East Coast know how to raise their children to be quiet. Apparently, I was doubly guilty, for being immune to noise and not successfully teaching my children always to be quiet. Ironically, I felt I was constantly reminding my children to be quiet! And I often found the noise of the household overwhelming.

Who enjoys the sound of squabbling siblings or demanding children? Who likes to hear a newborn crying to nurse or a toddler throwing a tantrum about being served milk in the wrong cup? Who wants 24 hours in a pediatric ER, listening to various children screaming in nearby rooms as they undergo painful bloodwork and medical exams? Do parents look forward to the sound of obnoxious, blasting teenager music or the grade schooler learning to play clarinet? No! We never set out to have a noisy household. And yet, we can  accept it as part of our lives right now. It is a mortification, an opportunity to die to ourselves and offer to God a sacrifice of our own personal preferences.

Silence has long been praised by Catholic spiritual writers, and it remains a popular topic today as well. "Noise," however, has been expanded to include technology encroaching into our daily lives. This means that busy Catholic parents can now be scolded for being too tied to their phones, despite the expectation from schools, health providers, coaches, etc. that they always be available. Even with the increasing demands on our time, we busy parents often seem to be blamed for not being able adequately to prioritize our prayer life, which would be exhibited in quiet holy hours and silent retreats. And yet, while spiritual writers continue to emphasize the necessity of silence, very few offer to jump in and babysit for six kids, do three loads of laundry, help with homework, drive kids to basketball practice, and make dinner, such that this hour of free time would be possible on a daily basis.

Perhaps it is better for busy parents to look to someone like Fr. Walter Ciszek for inspiration. In his books He Leadeth Me and With God in Russia, we find the description of how this Polish-American Jesuit priest found himself condemned to hard labor in a Siberian prisoner camp in the mid-20th century. He had very little "choice" when it came to his daily activities of digging ditches or shoveling coal. He had no say in when he woke up or had meals. And yet, he did not give up his Catholic spirituality or Catholic priesthood in these circumstances. He found ways to offer his hard labor to God and even to minister to people by giving retreats, based on the Spiritual Exercises, while people worked. Fr. Ciszek didn't allow his situation to prevent him from seeking out and serving God.

Our situation is not really as dire as a Siberian labor camp, and yet, we too often find circumstances out of our control. As parents, we constantly find ourselves unable to follow the schedule we would like, and even when we try to organize our day to prioritize prayer, it may not work out. For example, I recently missed my planned daily Mass to take my five year old son to urgent care for staples in his head. As caretakers of children, we often can't control our circumstances. Thus many of us might benefit from the words of Fr. Jacques Philippe:

"We often live with this illusion. With the impression that all would go better, we would like the things around us to change, that the circumstances would change. But this is often an error. It is not the exterior circumstances that must change; it is above all our hearts that must change" (Part 2, 8).

Thus if we have faith, we will see that God can reach us even in such imperfect circumstances:

"They will see that many of the circumstances that they thought negative and damaging to their spiritual life are, in fact, in God's pedagogy, powerful means for helping them to progress and grow...However many imperfections we may have, rather than lament them and try to rid ourselves of them at any price, they could be splendid opportunities to make progress -- in humility as well as in confidence in God and his mercy -- and thus in saintliness." (Part 2, 8.).

Of course, we can continue to recognize the value of silence for the spiritual life, especially looking for the opportunity for our own personal times of prayer. But if a silent retreat seems out of our reach, or an hour of adoration seems impossible with the demands of family life, we should not be hard on ourselves. In humility, we can see that the willingness to embrace the noise and give up the silence can also help us to grow closer to God. In short, here are three points of summary:

1. Silence is a good, and rightly praised. We should regularly re-examine our lives to determine if there are ways to fit in times of silence for personal prayer. I have great admiration for my friends who commit to a 4 a.m. hour of adoration or prioritize a half hour of quiet mental prayer before the kids awake. If we can make time for silence, we should.
2. Noise can be embraced as a sacrifice. We don't have to like noise or grow accustomed to it in order for us to grow from it. But the constant noise of family life will benefit us most spiritually when we consciously offer it to God as a sacrifice that we are making to do his will. Noise might be part of God's pedagogy for us. Despite the tone of some spiritual writers, we are not inferior Catholics if we find ourselves unable to prioritize times of silent prayer. Rather, God might want to teach us how to find him in the midst of noise and chaos. He may desire an increase in our humility, recognizing the failures of our parenting and the need for greater dependence upon him.
3. Our circumstances can and will change! Especially as parents of young children, our circumstances are constantly changing. We may be able to prioritize silence and silent prayer at certain times of our lives, though not at others. If we hold onto the value of silence, we can more willingly offer noise as a sacrifice and look forward to a time when silence is a better possibility for our lives.