Quiet Times

Today was my weekly date to take my father to run his errands. I walked up, we loaded into my parent's car, and started driving. We had been together about 1/2 hour when my father said,

"What's wrong, hon?" Nothing was wrong. Really. Nothing. (Except, perhaps, my life is unbelievably stressful right now.)

I told my father there was nothing wrong, but he didn't seem to believe me. I wondered why he was so convinced and realized I was very quiet today. I just didn't really have anything to say - lots on my mind, but very little to chat about.

I was reminded of 3 weeks ago. I was about a week into a terrible sinus infection (which I'm seeing the doctor about tomorrow) and felt miserable. By the time we got home from church, I could feel myself worsening. I was cold, my head hurt, my nose was killing me, I couldn't breath, and I felt incredibly weak and tired. In an effort to create a little gap for breathing, I decided to try my sinus rinse and somehow managed to back fluid up my eustachian tubes. My left ear started aching and I just couldn't take it any longer. I needed my Mom.

I walked through the backyards, quietly went through the kitchen door and into the dining room. I noticed that they were sitting on the couch engrossed in a movie, so I silently took off my coat, hung it on the back of a chair, and walked over to sit next to my mother.

"What's wrong, honey?" they asked in unison.

As far as I can see, the only similarity between these two instances (other than feeling pretty terrible both times) was that I was quiet.

Okay. What does that say about me. I actually entered a house quietly for a change, without trumpets blaring, and both my parents thought there was something wrong. Today, I just didn't have it in me to chat idly. Dad was sure something was wrong.

I DO have quiet times throughout my day - I just don't usually choose to have them when other people are around. But some days are different and I plain don't want to talk. Today was one of those. Tomorrow may be another.