Once again, it's been quite awhile since I last blogged. I let time pass, and then I find it more intimidating by the day to write, because there are that many more things on my mind, and I feel this need to try to communicate it all. Ugh... I won't do that to either of us. I'll just give you a taste of what's in here.
Last Friday night (Christmas Eve Eve, incidentally) Mark and I got to go see a movie in Rockford. After leaving the movie, I realized we needed a few things from the store - at the top of the list: diapers. So we reluctantly headed toward Walmart. I rationalized that at almost 11:00 PM Rockford's State Street Walmart would have been less busy. I was woefully mistaken. When we drove in to look for a parking space, we encountered what appeared to have been the apocalypse. Carts were strewn about the parking lot. Shelves were empty. Employees looked like zombies. And the shoppers? Well, we all did our best to pretend that each other didn't exist... unless in one another's way. Sometimes the need for diapers can just sneak up on a person.
Walmart aside: Now, I am the first to say that Walmart provides much-needed employment for many people I know and love. I appreciate that. However, I have to confess my deep sense of loathing toward Walmart. This Walmart was equipped with the usual - auto department, pharmacy, photography studio, nail salon, hair salon, etc. It also, however, was equipped with a McDonald's and a walk-in clinic. As I waited for Mark to use the restroom before we left the dreaded Walmart on Christmas Eve Eve, I watched a white kid who wore a gangster hat standing precariously on the top of his small head and a t-shirt that said, "psychotic records" standing in the checkout line with what I assumed to be his tired, annoyed, middle-aged mom in a Chicago Bears coat, I tried to conjure up why I am so annoyed with Walmart. I think it's us that created Walmart... when I say, "us" I mean those of us in the U.S.A. We love to waste things. We wear disposable hats and disposable t-shirts (although, I'm fairly certain that if that young man ever gets married his psychotic records t-shirt will be one of the last he ever lets his wife throw out). We don't buy clothes. We buy fads and phases. We don't buy food, we buy cravings and addictions. Walmart makes luxuries affordable to the point where we are hard pressed to even identify or make any distinction between a need and a want, a necessity and a luxury anymore. This is entirely aside from the fact that some part of me deeply resents anywhere I can get a haircut and manicure, then get my photos taken while my car simultaneously gets a lube job and tire rotation, then stop by the clinic for a cholesterol check and a flu shot, then stop by McDonald's for some cholesterol with a side of flu, then stop by the pharmacy to get some cholest-off, then stop by the meat department for some Lobster and some ground beef, the produce section for some coconuts and plantains, the dairy section for some milk and cheese, the bakery for some doughnut holes, the baby section for some diapers and Butt Paste, the boy's clothing section for a shirt and tie, the sporting goods section for some stink bait and a basketball, the automotive department for a new car battery, and the personal care section for some toothpaste and floss.... all before a pimple-faced kid manages to give me 25 bags for 23 items and still packages the Lobster and doughnut holes in the same bag as the basketball, Butt Paste, and stink bait - and all while never leaving the doors of one store. It's marvelously annoying that I need but don't love Walmart! Sometimes resentment just sneaks up on a person.
Sunday morning I found out that Levi (age 4) was supposed to have been singing in front of the church with some other children. It's a good thing I bought that shirt and tie at Walmart and put it on him Sunday morning. (See? They had me at, "Hello, welcome to Walmart.") Levi knew this song. He had sung it to me at home and in the car on many occasions. It contained the words, "Celebrate the Child who is the Light. Now the darkness is over. No more wandering in the night. Celebrate the Child who is the Light!" He knew the words... well, most of the words. He was pretty sure that it was "laundering in the night" that was to be no more, and I was all for that change in particular. He stood up there looking sharp in his George brand shirt and tie, but he didn't sing a word. Not a syllable... not a letter... did he utter. Not a peep. He resented the shirt, the tie, the outfit, and the obligation. He may have been up in front of everyone looking sharp on the outside, but on the inside he was still at home wearing only black socks and threatening his sisters with a mere light saber and his sheer nakedness. He didn't want to be singing. So he didn't sing. Sometimes responsibilities just sneak up on a person.
As Levi was unenthusiastic, his sister Violet (age 2) was as enthusiastic as her brother was not. She longed to sing with the big people and set a hymnal in her lap as though she had the aptitude to belt out the Christmas carols like everyone else. Never mind that the hymnal was upside down, because she's illiterate anyway. She remained undaunted. A more adorable sight was scarce for this mom to behold on Christmas morning. Sometimes sweetness just sneaks up on a person.
This past Monday, we celebrated my dad's parents' 60th wedding anniversary. My dad said that, when they were in line at the store to purchase the cake for the party, another patron looked at them (having read the cake's inscription) and said, "60 years, huh? I guess it's working out then." I love that... "I guess it's working out." I suppose it's safe to make such a statement after 60 years. As they sat there watching a photo montage of their 60 years together run across the screen, I couldn't help but wonder if sometimes 60 years just sneak up on a person.
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| Grandma and Grandpa in 1952 |
My grandma was diagnosed with ALS a few months back, and her health is declining. That being said, Monday's celebration was a bit more bittersweet than I would have liked it to be. Sometimes unpleasant things just sneak up on a person.
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| family photos taken shortly after her diagnosis |
These days, the man who spent most of his life being well taken care of by the woman on his right is lifting her out of bed, helping her get dressed, helping her bathe, pushing her wheel chair, adjusting and calibrating her breathing machine, trying his hand at cooking for them, and even watching her sleep. Her kitchen has become his kitchen. Her life has become his life. His job has become her. As I type my heart breaks at the idea of it... but not in the way you may think. "And the two shall become one flesh" is written in Genesis of God's intent and desire for the first couple He made - Adam and Eve. "And the two shall become one flesh" doesn't happen at the altar or in the bedroom. It doesn't happen when two people share a look of pride when their child is born or does something special. It doesn't even happen when two people share hopes and dreams. It happens when the word "love" becomes a choice - when it becomes an action that must be done on the other's behalf - an action undeserved, unmerited, and unable to be repaid - when he takes steps for her, when he cooks food for her. When he does all these things on her behalf... they have truly become one flesh. These days it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Sometimes beauty just sneaks up on a person.
