(no subject)

Last monday I was glad that everyone was gone--all the visitors that came on the weekend really stressed me out. This weekend had it's share of visitors as well, but it was different, and today, I miss them. I guess it's gotten to the point that I don't want to do this alone anymore.

It's a tough position for an introverted loner to be in.

Arlina's family was here pretty much all weekend, at least during the day. I have gotten used to them being around, and have actually started feeling some comfort in their presence. I was kind of sad when they left.

They don't really understand me and my need for solitude. They grew up in a big family--Arlina is the oldest of 7 kids. For the early part of their life, they lived in a one-room house, all piled on top of one another. If there aren't a half-dozen people around, they get to feeling lonely, and will throw a party or something to rectify it.

But they are trying. When one of them comes over, they almost immediately ask me if I want to go out and take a walk or something. They don't seem to mind if I disappear to the back of the house for a while, and they never bother me if I do.

It breaks my heart to watch her parents go through this. When her mom comes in, she goes to the bed and says so tenderly, "hello baby, how are you?" It's the "baby" that gets me. Her dad is quiet, but steadfast. He took some vacation days last week and came over every day and sat with her. He sits and holds her hand.

Arlina asks me to take care of them. They have become like my own parents, and I am reminded of the passage in John: "When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved he said, 'Woman, behold your son', and to the disciple he said, 'behold your mother'."


Friday was a bad day. She was uncomfortable and worn out, and we couldn't seem to find anything to make her feel better. In the afternoon, she asked me to call a priest. He came over and she spent some time with him. She has worried about whether she has done all she could in this life. People who spend time with her will tell her that it is like being next to a saint--they walk away with a sense of awe. Her humility doesn't allow her to understand this, and she worries that she ought to be more appreciative of being so close to God. She is a saint, and I am humbled to be in her presence.

In the evening she fell asleep and her breathing became shallow and irregular. I sat up most of the night watching her, thinking that this was the end. When I couldn't keep my eyes open any more, I crawled into the bed and hugged her. She woke me up a few hours later and said, "what's for breakfast?"

It is difficult to go through this. Sometimes, when she is sleeping, I have to look to see if she is actually breathing. Each time, my heart races a little. She wakes up and looks at me, and says "I love you", and each time cries a little as she says it. She wanted us to grow old together. So did I.

She had another rough night last night, and is still sleeping. I am sitting across from her, watching and waiting.

edit: a moment after I posted this, she opened her eyes and said, "where's my breakfast?"

The Ideal Wife

Early on in my diaconate program, I had an assignment to re-write one of the Proverbs to reflect my own life. I chose Proverbs 31:10 and beyond. I had forgotten about it until I read a moment ago that someone on my friends list got married.

When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond three-carat diamonds.
Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has a great gift, given by God.
She brings him coffee when he is cranky, and removeth the empty mugs that lay scattered about.
She allows him to keep his office in disarray, but abideth no socks on the floor.
Like the tax collector, she gathers up his paycheck,
distributing it justly among the merchants,
working wonders with the budget.
Her husband wants for nothing, as long as he really, really needeth it.
She encourages him in all his endeavors, and supports him in his pursuits.
She comforts him when he is afflicted,
and provides him sanctuary in her heart when it seems that all other doors are closed to him.
She listens when he is troubled,
calms him when he is angry,
sooths him when he is upset.
She celebrates his laughter and shares in his joy.
She shares the burden of his sorrows.
Even in his darkest days,
when he reaches out in blindness and despair,
he finds her always at his side.
Possessions are deceptive and the rewards of the world are fleeting,
but the love of a wife is eternal.