Since this whole thing happened a couple of years ago I think there’ll always be a part of me that wants to be in bed. I think of these women who have worked for years, night shifts and two jobs and did all of this willingly, and I honestly couldn’t imagine having lived such a life. Some women like working. They find purpose and identity, enjoy staying busy, and like the extra income they earn. Some had to work for money.

I count downplay all the things that I’ve done, but I also can’t ignore the immense richness that has been my life. These kids–they have no idea the delight they brought me. As much as I’ve lamented the long hours my husband works, as lonely as it’s made me and been the way of so many unshared experiences, his work was my security.

I don’t think I’ll ever be like them, these people who like to stay busy, at least in those ways. There was shame in not being a Martha, but there was too much pride in being a Mary. In the car I thought to myself, I’m not the one asking Jesus to tell my sister to help me. I’m the one telling the Marthas to put the pots and pans down and get the heck over here. That’s part of my problem. You’re not supposed to boss, but rather invite.