Truth be told, I’m. not inspired by this morning’s Numbers reading, and I’m feeling pressed to get on with a 4 hour zoom meeting on this, the first beautiful Saturday of the year. Ugh. Numbers talks about God being in the people’s midst, and therefore the people should not defile the land. Stewardship. Yes.
And here’s what I’m actually thinking about today. In my work and vocation world, I’m on the board of the national association for Episcopal deacons, and we have a board meeting today. Like many organizations, it started as a good idea, “hey we should gather and compare notes”. Now, it’s non-profit that actually has membership, a board and limited staff. Spending my life in bureaucracies, I actually enjoy the challenge of creating meaningful ones, bureaucracies that make order of procedural chaos. And I definitely support the cause of supporting deacons. So although it’s a four hour zoom meeting on a beautiful Saturday, I’m looking forward to the meeting.
While I’m in my meeting, my husband will be painting our newly completed second floor porch. It’s covered, but otherwise open to the elements. It’s big enough that we’ll be sleeping out there, once we finish the paint. We built this to provide us a own personal Xanadu, separate from the other outside spaces of the house. It took longer and cost more than we’d anticipated, and it’s beautiful, and it’s one of those expenses that I already know was worth it. Perhaps tonight we’ll have a little night cap out there.
We need our personal retreat space because life in our home is sometimes complicated. Our sick loved one is increasingly symptomatic. Unfortunately, when they stop taking medicine, one of the first symptoms to return is something called anasognosia, which is an absolute unawareness of the illness or symptoms. When one believes one is healthy, why would you need to take seriously strong medicine. They’re not sick, after all. And so the speed of the decompensation increases, and feeds itself.
My husband and I have been through at least three of these cycles, and are beginning to recognize patterns. When returning from the hospital, there’s a period of gratitude and grace and integration with the family. After some time, the integration or willingness to spend time with us decreases. Then unpleasantness rears its ugly head, in mean comments. We’re leaving that phase and entering the next phase which is increased isolation and lack of communication. If past cycles are to be repeated, what comes next is a crisis of some kind that eventually results in hospitalization.
So we are in the withdrawn, isolated, calm before the storm. One of the hard parts about this time, is that they are so disorganized in their thinking that it’s impossible to do a course correction now. We just watch, and try to keep them safe during this next crisis. It’s heartbreaking for us, although I don’t really know what they’re thinking.
And so, in this impotent waiting game, we will enjoy the beautiful Saturday weather, paint a little, and then finish our day reveling in our own company in our own personal Xanadu. To be clear, my optimism isn’t borne out of disregarding or ignoring the problems. It’s a defiant commitment to enjoy today, not in spite of the troubles, but precisely because of the troubles.
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