In the last three weeks we have had only 4 days with the whole family being healthy, which of course means the rest of the time one of us has been sick. First is was me, then it was Lincoln and now it's Stella, who I am afraid has the worst case of all of us. I do pray she will feel better soon. She has been pricked and swabbed one too many times this week. If you think about it we would appreciate your prayers for her to be well soon.
In the moments between delivering her homemade apple juice popsicles while she rests on the couch, reading her books and, honestly, just plain old worrying about her, I have been cleaning this place from top to bottom in hopes of keeping this illness from spreading to the rest of our family and our neighbors.
This illness has made sleeping a challenge for her, and I don't want to do anything to disturb her during those precious few moments of rest. So while she drifts off I sit down and quietly read. A friend of mine recommended Jane Eyre to me. She told me it was riveting and that was all I needed to get started.
This book has captivated me. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started. The first chapter drew me into Jane's suffering. And that suffering consumed my thoughts. I have felt sorrow for her. I have rejoiced with her. I have journeyed with her and now there are only 60 pages left on that journey. Only 60 pages left to immerse myself in the way Charlotte Bronte tells Jane's story. And quite frankly I am not ready for it to end.