Infirmity

I have always imagined that I would one day contract a serious and obscure disease that would require much tending to and severely impede day-to-day life. Maybe I thought this was romantic in the style of Gothic novels where the heroine always contracted consumption. Why is that even romantic? Perhaps because of the idea of people weeping about you or being nursed by a noble, handsome man. It taps into the ideal of the fragile woman. I think most women want to be fragile sometimes, even if they won't admit it.

But of course I understand that chronic illness is not romantic and that it is on the whole quite horrible. I being it up because I have felt quite ill since I woke up with my European jetlag. I feel dizzy, too warm, stuffed up, and completely at the mercy of convulsive coughing fits. It is as if some gooey substance has infiltrated my head and left me with little will or intelligent thought. And so, I've excused myself of quite a lot. Of course nobody can expect anything of me, I think; I'm sick. It's only a few days. But what of those who feel the weight of sickness all the time? How must they live?

And a lot of me thinks that sickness is a legitimate excuse for a lot of things. But it also makes me think of how much we can excuse due to infirmity of some sort-- and what we call infirmity. I notice myself excusing my actions based upon the fact that I'm tired or PMSing or just having a bad day. Every day has its own infirmity, its own handicap. And if there isn't one readily available, there really is always something to fall back on: depravity. I'm only human, of course.

But that's exactly it. If we didn't have some kind of debilitation, then there would be no failings to excuse. Well, perhaps Adam and Eve are the exceptions to this principle. Because they were not fallen, their sin was entirely without rational excuse. But so is ours. We were given the gift of life and freedom by God, and we squandered it. There is no excuse for failing him daily.

These are just some thoughts that come to me about my own expectations for my behavior. Should I have different expectations for myself based upon circumstances? It would seem so. But one can see how far it can be taken. Today, I'm sick. But next week, I'm also sick-- just in a different sense. There is always infirmity. But Christ died to bridge that gap of weakness for us. So now, we can get out of bed.

(In a philosophical sense. In reality, I'm probably going back to bed right now.)