Read this morning about a couple married 75 years who died within hours in each others’ arms. Of course, if this were normal, it wouldn’t make the news, but I am feeling so completely different, like I have no idea how to love.
I am obedient, trying to keep the promise of my marriage vows (for a change), but sinking deeper with each day, or feeling like it.
The other day, it came to me that no wonder Dave says so often that he’s happy—he finally has the wife he always wanted, one who stays at home with no other job and spends all her days centered on him. And I resent it. I do. But then I listen to him cough and groan and witness again the grace with which he endures.
Is it a privilege to serve him? In the abstract, yes. But I feel stuck at the same time, not wanting to go forward, not wanting to go back, not wanting to stay here. And knowing it doesn’t matter what I want.
I need to focus somewhere else at least part of the time. If I let it, Dave’s illness will take over both our lives and take us down together. I am not sick, though, and I have to figure out how to help him without living his life. I’m not doing very well.
Gospel for today: New wine does not go in old wineskins.
So, God, is this how you make me new?
I am small and you are big.
Is this what it’s like to learn love and compassion? I have been a barren rock, a dry husk. Is this how I am renewed?
Image: A Little Bit Crunchy A Little Bit Rock and Roll