Suffering well…

But how? Faced with my limitations, I lament all that others must do that I would. Struggling against the tide, I try to do what I can, only to lament the pain that follows for having done too much.

I shared this with my dad.


“It’s so hard, Dad. I see how much the kids are taking on. Things are falling apart, but they are struggling valiantly to keep up. Arthur is amazing, but I worry that it’s too much for him. Cooking, cleaning, dealing with so many different things, including worrying over me. It’s too much for a teenage boy…”


“How can you say that? With all you’ve taught those children. Think back. A hundred years ago your boy would’ve been carrying a gun, loading a cannon, hoisting a sail on a ship. I don’t think a few dishes are going to take him down…”

I love my Dad.

He’s so right. These are the times that bond families, that “grow” men. How comforting for my husband to know that such a wonderful young man is at the helm of the ship, when he’s not here.

I’m humbled in my infirmity.

Watching this man-child as he watches me struggle to put on a pair of shoes…without a word, he easily bends over, slips my shoes on, and smiles.

No words are necessary.

An act of pure love, pure compassion…unsolicited and yet most welcome.