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Be still and know

I haven’t wanted to blog the past few days as I have been running on automatic pilot. Reality is closing in even as it seems very distant and unreal. I am fascinated by the way we create our own reality. Ukraine provoked war with Russia?  Russia is so threatened the West it is going on nuclear alert? Everyone else is the aggressor?  Concerned as I am, the most I can muster are mini prayers that spiral outwardly in a swirl of “please God.” 

My attention is centered in this tiny microcosm we call home as time is running out. Each day it becomes more obvious. He is becoming less communicative. He’s less in the world or of the world even as he remains very alert. I am exceedingly grateful he’s not going out in a blur of confusion or dementia, but that also means he’s aware of being increasingly uncomfortable, what he refers to as sliding down the slippery slope. 

I am still resisting what lies ahead. I go back and forth between awareness and numbness. Tears surface but quickly retreat.  We opened yesterday’s worship service with a call to worship prayer that seems appropriate for this morning.  “Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I am. Be still and know. Be still. Be.”  That says it all as our days are being reduced to simply being. Being together.  

Being grateful. Being in this moment.  

I keep fairly busy. Reading is becoming more challenging as it requires focus and concentration.

Sewing quilt patches fills the void when I am not hovering, checking on him, drinking in his presence.

I know the children, grandchildren also need to assist him, to be an integral part of this ritualized leave taking as time goes on, but I am selfish. I treasure these moments.

I drink in the vitality of our house plants, the bouquet of cut flowers our daughter brought on Saturday, squawking birds at the feeders, the banging sounds of the morning’s trash collection, sunshine streaming through the windows. Life goes on though good men die, I remind myself as I am all too aware our experience is being repeated in multiple households around the world. I think of friends who are grieving their own losses. I am so grateful for the privilege of being able to gradually let him go rather than suffering the abruptness of sudden death, the trauma of violence or war.

 Once again this process of blogging brings with it a quiet peace. “This is the day the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” For now, at least, that is more than enough.

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