February 5, 2019

Consumed. That was the only response I could think of today when Uncle G asked how I was doing.
Consumed. By what? I mean, life is easy right now . . . right? It’s not like we have real jobs anymore. All we do is drive my grandmother around. And visit the (growing number of) family members who are hospitalized. And meal plan. And grocery shop. And attempt to set up a house—that we don’t know when we will actually live in. And try to make plans for what the future will look like if/when my grandfather is released and comes home. And try to make plans for/apply for jobs that we can’t imagine fitting into our “schedules” at this point in the game. And . . . And . . .

Gee: somehow life doesn’t seem so easy anymore as we adjust to the “ease” and “simplicity” of this developed Western world again. But you know what? That’s ok. It’s ok. Because when all is said and done, all that really matters is here. Now.

The promise never was one of ease and simplicity anyway. That was not the point. And who really wants that, on the deepest, truest level of the soul anyway? Not me.
What has been promised—to me, at least—is that HE will be gentle with me. He has been gentle with me. He is gentle with me. He will be gentle with me. I know this to be true.
Because it is, we can laugh.

Yesterday my father-in-law had a fall that was pretty nasty, landing him in the hospital for surgery. Since an ambulance had taken him in, we went to the house later to take care of the dogs and chickens. While there, we cleaned up the bloody mess in the bathroom. Or, more accurately, Peter cleaned it up. I made a valiant effort: an effort consisting of staring at in and telling myself I needed to think of where to start, getting instantly woozy, and making a hasty departure to inform my husband that I couldn’t do it.

The following series of text messages between my mom and Peter came a bit later in the day:

Mom: Gary wrote this when he heard you cleaned the bathroom: “Wow. That’s why they are called ‘blood relatives.”
Peter: Does that mean I’m no longer an in-law?
Mom: Maybe we should call you Lou’s blood brother.

*Please excuse me for excusing myself from the scene before properly documenting the crime.

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