Sunday, July 19, 2015

Mixed-Up Confusion

Dear John,
 
It's been a quiet day - outwardly, anyway. I did laundry, put stew in the crock pot, and froze ten pounds of blueberries. And I finished one Christmas-present sock and started the second one. And there's some good news: Netflix finally has NCIS, eleven seasons of it. I watched four episodes, long enough for the dish receiver to turn itself off because it thought I was dead.
 
There's lots of emotional stuff going on inside me. I'll try to be brief. You know that's hard for me.
 
I've realized that I can't see my life as a continuum, at least not now. I could until you died. I could see my childhood, teen years, marriage, and adulthood as all one piece. Now I can still see that, but not how it connects to who I am today. I seem to have sprung forth fully-formed from the chaos of your death, with no past, no history, no connection to anything. Not having any family of my own is probably a factor. But the moment of your death became a chasm between what is and what was. I can't bridge it. Maybe someday I'll be able to, but not now. This is all a bit disconcerting.
 
The current political issues rage on, and I find myself struggling with no longer being able to define myself as a liberal. It's a difficult metamorphosis. I see postings on Facebook deriding liberal positions, and my knee-jerk reaction is to be angry. But I step back and realize that I agree with the posting. I realize that it's the liberal position, not me, that has moved. But shifting tectonic plates are always disorienting, whether we're talking about a literal or metaphorical earthquake. And I struggle with that disorientation.
 
The fibro flare continues and I feel awful. Flare are always frightening because you don't know how long they'll last. Remember that one in 2010 that lasted over six months? And that was when I could stay home and take care of myself. Now I have to work full-time to support myself, and it's scary. I tell myself, as you always told me, that this didn't take God by surprise. And in these last three years, I've certainly has an opportunity to see the providence of God in action. So I try to step back, take a deep breath, and remember that I'm in His hands. It's not always easy to keep my eyes on that.
 
I guess I've already told you what I'd like you to pray for tonight, haven't I? As Dylan said, I've got mixed-up confusion, and it's a'killing me. I know that you can pray much better now than you could before. But I miss hearing you pray for me. I can't tell you how much that meant to me. If I was sick, or scared, or woke up in the middle of the night with a bad dream, you'd hold my hands and pray for me, and everything got better. If you can, stop by tonight for prayer. I have new blueberries in the freezer - you can take some out and put milk and sugar on them, let the milk freeze, and eat it like you always used to. And, as I keep telling you, you can finally meet your cats! I'll leave the door open for you.
 
Missing you so much tonight,
Joan.

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