Thanks, Diane for reminding me that I even have a blog! smile
I haven’t written in a very long time. So long, in fact that I had to work to remember my username and password! But, finally I remembered the right combination and am allowed into my own site. woo-hoo!
I am jotting this, hopefully quickly enough to shower and get to worship tonight. I really feel the need for corporate worship with the gals. Oh! And Gene is coming, too! He has been coming to church every Sunday for a couple of months now and loving it! And, he wanted to come tonight to our girlie group. :O)
A lot has taken place in our lives since I last wrote, and I don’t even know where to begin. My sweetheart had fallen after his hip replacement and he broke his leg. After another surgery, he “did time” in the rehab section of Twin Oaks.
It was rough on both of us. He was certain I was going to leave him there! Seriously. I couldn’t even believe it. How can he ever think, after 29 full years together, that I would just take the first opportunity to abandon him?
He even thought I would stop coming by to visit him as soon as he got in there, even though I was there for hours every night after a long work day! Nothing, and no one seemed to be able to shake him from this conviction. (Or was it simply just fear? – understandable since he worked about 40 years in convalescent care, and he has seen plenty of abandonment there.)
Which leads me to question: How much do we ever truly know a person, including those we live with and share our “deepest feelings and thoughts” with?
Can we ever truly know each other, or be known by any other but God?
And, if he doesn’t know me any better than this, or other things that have shown up since that traumatic event, then how well do I really know him?
Am I as lacking in understanding and knowledge of who he really is as he seems to be of me?
I realized as I typed the above statement of the things he believes of me, that it still stings. Quite a lot, actually. And, as I have had so much time at home lately (another blog to come), I actually feel the pain and sorrow of it more, as if it has gone deeper with more time spent together. Or is it just that other avenues of ‘being me’ are closed now, and what has been lurking in me all along is now “feel-able”? I have a sense that this is it.
And soon, another round to get through. He is scheduled for another hip-replacement surgery in November.
Perhaps that is why I can’t seem to “kick free” of this last one. I know another one is looming on the horizon. I don’t have any anticipation of harm, at least none that I know of. I don’t think he is going to have another fall like that, just because it happened last time. We have learned a lot from this experience. Lots of what not to do, what to do differently, what works, that sort of thing.
No, it’s more of a weariness of the things that come with surgical experiences. Things said, attitudes, confinement, the drugs, the anesthesia, and the personality changes that come with them, the lack of sleep, rest and fun…the exhaustion…for both of us. Though we have so many dear family and friends loving us through, so it seems silly to have pain or sorrow over it.
Until now, I have never felt this tired and sad about it all, and it catches me off guard. I will go through whatever comes our way together with him, as long as we live, as much as I am able. That conviction is rising in me now, even as I write.
I am as sure as I am writing this that I am ready to do whatever he needs to be healthy and live a full, long life.
No matter how much thoughts hit me that I just can’t or don’t want to do this any more, the thoughts are liars. As soon as something, anything, hits we both rise up and just do what we need to do. And we are both very thankful people for life, and for the health and the soundness of mind we both have. Many people are left with less mental faculties after so much, but God has blessed us tremendously. And my man always rises up in physical strength as well, working out or doing whatever he needs to recover.
Each surgery, each injury, each illness just takes it’s toll, I guess. Even as I sit here, I am overcome with tears, but he is more healthy and strong than he has been since winter.
So, what is my deal? What’s with all of this?
Perhaps it is what I am noticing now. That we both have less patience with each other, less ability to communicate. It is like, there is an automatic assumption that whatever I say or do will somehow be lacking. Lacking love or understanding, lacking in kindness or perhaps even a desire to be there. And perhaps I automatically assume he is critical or nagging?
How can you live with someone so long and they don’t know or believe that you want the best for them?
Especially when the thing that resonates through your being is loving one another, loving your neighbor, bringing love and care to every avenue of your life?
How can this be? It feels like such utter failure. Failure to live a life of love. When all that has mattered to me, personally in my faith-life is just exactly this…LOVE.
You see, I understand the stuff of real love, the love God instills in us. Love is patient, kind, etc. Love is what remains when the rubber meets the road, when it is tough, smelly, and not the least bit lovely at all. Love endures nasty moods, hurtful words, physical changes, everything. And nothing, nothing can kill it completely. Love will always forgive, bless, hope for the best for someone no matter what has been done or said. Love hopes and believes for a better time. Love endures whatever it must to survive. Love is not afraid. Love is never conditional. Now, there are times that love actually has to let go, even walk away (abuse, unfaithfulness, etc.) but this is not what I am talking about here.
I know that many times we are called and placed in circumstances to love in the face of hate. I know that in my life I have loved and cared for many who did all they could to push me away, and in some cases to hurt me just because they could.
I also know that no matter what anyone thinks or what I feel, it doesn’t change the fact that love given is love given. And, love remains. So, the fact that I feel this way and am grappling with all of this doesn’t negate the years of love and faithfulness our marriage has prospered in. No. Not at all.
I am just left with many questions, not the least of which is this, “Do I really know my own husband?” “Does he really know me?” Do we filter everything through our own assumptions and experiences, seeing or hearing things through a “veil” or fog? Have we missed it somewhere?
In actuality, rising up from some deep place in my center, is the absolute “knowing” that my husband loves me and that he knows I love him and care about him.
And yet, I am left with questions and grief (about lots of things and relationships in my life), and feel compelled to ask many questions. (Of course, I should add into perspective here that I am now 51, and my husband is nearly 71. Perhaps it is a stage in life?)
So the biggest question of this many-questioned blog is this, have I gotten any of it right? Ever?
Because surely, if love is genuine and given enough, the recipient should know it in the depths of their core. Even if the mind goes, and people are no longer recognizable, love itself should always be recognizable. Shouldn’t it?