This is one of those days with too much to think about. Sentences to write and laundry to do. There is Kierkegaard, a NY Times blog about the difference between depression and despair (Kierkegaard on the Couch).
Jesse goes to get his stitches out today. He had something removed from his back, a little persistent thing, and since the biopsy came back negative I haven’t thought much of it, except to put Vaseline and a band-aid on it every morning. I could not be a nurse, cringing at the sight of the stitches. I don’t know if it was the stitches themselves, or the fact of them on that back, where my stomach says they should not be.
There is the futon; since my in-laws left, I haven’t moved the featherbed off it, so now it’s folded up on the couch, lengthwise, and it dips slightly in the middle, making this perfect little nest, exactly the right thing to take a nap on. Which I did yesterday, a solid hour of staying in exactly the same position, dreaming about something I can’t remember anymore.
And of course, a bit of frustration with myself over the yard sale thing. Jesse got in touch with the lady, and she acted, I don’t know, confused? Said, the money’s in the account. And she was right. It was there. On the one hand, I’m glad I let Jesse handle it. He had what I lacked—compassion, a willingness to suspend judgment. So, letting him take over was the right thing to do. But on the other hand, I wonder, why is it I still can’t keep myself from jumping to conclusions? Why am I so quick to see the bad in people, to think the worst? Yes, it looked bad. I’ll give myself that. The bad phone number was what did it. And there still hasn’t been an explanation for that. But, goodness, I of all people should know there’s an answer for everything, there’s a reason, whether it’s obvious or not. So, I’m sheepish today over this, the fact that I couldn’t extend just a bit of grace and wait before thinking I knew everything I needed to in this situation. And, the story of the servant whose debts are forgiven, going straight out and throwing someone else in jail because of what he was owed. Ugh.
(But, Michael, what you suggested about the local crime ring is probably true, and once they knew I was hot on their trail, they aborted the mission, put the money back in the account. I’m sure that’s the most reasonable explanation.)
I saw a shooting star last night. Well, it didn’t appear to be shooting as much as it seemed to be falling. It seemed so close. Ridiculously fast. There in one part of the second, and gone in the next. Maybe it wasn’t a shooting star after all, though I’m not sure what else would make light do that. So, that is what I’ll land on today, my day of many thoughts to think, and while I do laundry I’ll try to get reoriented, to remember to have perspective. And, because I have too much to do, I will try very very hard not to take a nap.
2 Comments
Oh, who knows? Old folks suffer all kinds of mental ailments; perhaps it was an old phone number of hers or a family members or something. It’s great that you had Jesse to handle the situation in a way you couldn’t. I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself. Your instincts still helped you avoid a charge on your own account for the bounced check. It could have all been accidental on her part or she could be terrible at financial management or she could even be dishonest and willing to carry it so far as “acting” confused when caught. I think that your struggle between suspecting the worst and feeling gracious is a bit like the relationship between faith and doubt! How can anyone extend grace unintentionally and without awareness that there is something negative to be forgiven?
Also, you might feel differently about looking at stitches if they weren’t in your husband. (I’m glad his biopsy was negative, BTW!) I think things like that become easier to compartmentalize when 1) they’re associated with strangers and 2) you look at the matter on a microscopic level. For instance, rather than thinking about thread holding flesh together (ick!), I think about the fact that his body had to go into positive-nitrogen balance to heal itself by constructing the necessary amino acid chains, and in that light, he isn’t “Jesse” at all. (I imagine he is always Jesse to you, but you know what I mean.)
A very apt point about the balance between grace/forgiveness!
And I will tell Jesse the part about his positive-nitrogen balance and amino acids! I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of it.