That's What Family's For

Tonight I am recuperating after going five rounds with a migraine. (Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed!) The meds have finally kicked in, so while I have a reprieve that allows me to look at a computer monitor without flinching, I thought this would be a good time to digress from the topic of food. (Though, love is food for the soul, so maybe it still counts.)

I was raised to be self-reliant. My family taught me that it is better to take care of yourself whenever possible. Don't whine. Don't cry over little things. Resist the urge to run home for help if you can work out the problem yourself. These are basic tenets that have helped me weather emotional and physical ups and downs over the years. I learned to be strong and brave, to take chances when the possible payoff is worth the risk, and to pull myself up and brush myself off when I fall. These values aren't earth-shattering secrets; they're the same ones that have defined America for more than two centuries.

But sometimes, even when you can take care of yourself, it's nice to know someone else is looking out for you. Today is a perfect example of that. As the headache raged and grew through Sunday morning services, the worried look on my husband's face told me I was in good hands. As soon as church concluded, he whisked me away from the well-meaning talkers who would monopolize another half an hour saying nothing. In the car, he turned the air down low so the cold would assuage the heat of my face. Upon our arrival at home, he promptly handed me medication and sent me to bed. Next he called my mom so she wouldn't worry when the phone didn't ring for our customary Sunday marathon. (This call is measured only in the amount of time it takes for my cell phone battery to die!) As the day progressed, he vacuumed the living room, fed me lunch, fetched cold drinks, and allowed me to sit on the sofa doing nothing while he finished the laundry.

The point of this story is that while I could have taken care of myself, the feeling of warmth and security involved in being taken care of is priceless. If Jeff takes care of me this well when something small happens, imagine what he's like during a major catastrophe. Days like today remind me I am truly loved.