Tuesday, January 8, 2013

A Winter Cold

I'm battling a head cold that gives new meaning to the word mucous, which is pretty self-explanatory.

Oh, yes - it also completely redefines words like irritation, aggravation, vexation and torment and breathes new life into the phrase, "May God have mercy on my soul!"

Yeah, it's one of those colds.   :0(

I am not a "Winter" girl.  I love the Summer.  When it comes to colds, I especially dislike winter weather because its harshness seems to compound normal levels of cruelty in a virus where summer colds don't.  For instance, in winter, everything is dried up and gnarly and seems to be mocking me.  (Colds and winter foster delusion.)

I look at my face in the mirror, and it actually resembles this 450-year-old Sugar Maple in my yard!  All drawn and pinched up and wrinkled... and in the background, I think I hear laughter.  In reality, it's simply winter wind but, from the psychopathic bondage of head-cold congestion, it sounds like what you'd hear from a 14-foot-tall Stephen King novel clown before it stomps your guts out!

I'm suffering, y'all.

To top it all off, I'm taking cold medicine that's not really cold medicine at all, it's anti-histamine.  You all know what that truly is in so-called cold medicine, don't ya?  Sure you do.  It's the treatment that comes with invisible, gnome-like creatures only two feet tall (dressed in outfits matching the box) who carry long-handled, plastic, 10-pound hammers twice their size and wait around for you to take a dose. 

Once you do, they climb up on your bedroom couch (I say they because this sort always comes in pairs) and patiently wait for you to get drowsy.  As you slip away from the conscious world, awash in the fish-bowl effects of high-powered, over-the-counter drugs, they hop happily off the arms of your sofa, tip-toe to your bed and BASH you over the head with those hammers!  So... off you go into medicated, coma-like slumber of the "you poor sucker" variety.

That's been my plight for about three days but, when I talk to Abba, He comforts me with a truth that almost makes me glad for my suffering.  (My ears are too clogged to quote Him exactly, Saints, but I'll give you the gist of His wisdom.)  It all comes down to my immune system needing a workout.  I haven't had a rockem-sockem cold of any kind for nearly two years, and Daddy says that's not the best thing to keep my regulatory and cold-fighting systems clicking on all sevens.  It may sound really strange, but we actually need an escaped-convict type virus to hole up in our bodies now and then to sharpen our common-cold-fighting swords.  Through the snot and tears, I admit this does make sense and, besides, God formed my body... He ought to know.

So, as I blow my nose for the 150,000th time while staggering into my kitchen to hush the squealing tea kettle, I say goodbye...  I look forward to better, brighter, cold-free days when I can remove the clot of tissues from my nostrils and walk in the sunlight of wellness and wholeness regardless of the grip of winter snow and ice.  Until then, my friends, please continue praying for my speedy recovery.

Hope you chuckled a bit.
Daddy's Girl





"... fervent in spirit, serving the Lord."
(Romans 12:11b)