deep thoughts from the bathroom floor

I'm alive.
Man. I don't think I've been that stomach-sick since I contracted food poisoning in college. (Um, could that have possibly been 13 years ago? Yikes.)
Sitting there in the bathroom floor with my so-sick little boy, two thoughts occurred to me.
1- God BLESS single mothers. I really don't know how they do it. In our society I often perceive an undercurrent of hostility toward single mothers as if they have somehow committed a grievous sin to cause them to end up in their situation, and consequently, are not worthy of support or sympathy. They often seem to bear invisible scarlet letters on their chests- SM. One will hear a woman explaining how life is hard in some way because she is a single mother, and people nod their heads but behind their hands (or in their heads) say "Well, she should have..." fill in the blank:
-waited until marriage to have sex
- made her marriage work
- chosen a better man
- used birth control...
I will admit that at timesI have had similar thoughts. It's easy to fall into the judgment trap. But as I lost my lunch into the toilet and watched my 1-year old boy doing the same in his Daddy's arms, I thought, "There but by the amazing grace of God Almighty go I."
Truly- what would I have done? How would I have cared for him when I was so very ill myself? How would I do so many, many things that I am able to do because I have a wonderful and supportive husband?

2- My second thought was, "Thank you, God, that sickness is our rarity and not our normality." There is a children's hospital in driving distance that is full of very ill children. So rarely do I consider them, or their parents, or pray for them. And what must it be like to have a little one who is so sick- not just for a few days- but for weeks, months, years? It truly is inconceivable to me.

Not cheering thoughts, but grounding ones. God always amazes me. I can be laying half-dead in the bathroom floor and He's still teaching me lessons. Always moving me away from judgment and self-righteousness. Always moving me toward mercy.