Wednesday, October 5, 2016
October 5, 2016 Sunday we had breakfast together at our son Matthew's house before attending worship together. When we got home from church, I had to eat early so I could attend the Keryx team meeting that took up the afternoon. I no sooner got home from that than it was time to head back to church to teach bass. All that time, Linda was home alone. On Monday, after breakfast together, Linda headed to her swim class while I went to Erie to see a friend in the hospital there, getting back just in time to eat and head to men's and women's Bible studies. Yesterday, we had breakfast together before she left for exercise class while Harry and I worked together to clean up the mess left by the fellow who dug our new water line. In the evening, she had a Wrap board meeting while I went to a swim meet. Today, Linda had breakfast with her friends Beth and Sue, while I grabbed a quick bite before heading to town to visit a friend in the nursing home and another just home from the hospital. Linda went to her piano lesson then to the library to sort books for their annual book sale. We both arrived back home about the same time, with just enough time to have a quick lunch together before I had to leave for band rehearsal. Supper together, then back to Fredonia for the bass society. Tomorrow, I'm home, but Linda will be gone to exercise class then lunch with her sisters. In the evening, one of us will pick up granddaughters from school while the other attends Ian's soccer game. Tonight, we were both feeling pretty disconnected. At times, it seems like we are two unrelated individuals who just happen to live in the same house. When it gets like that, we both feel tentative; not that we question our loyalty or commitment to each other-we are sure of our love, but like a couple of logs that were burning brightly while touching each other, when we get separated by the craziness of our schedules, the glow begins to fade. So this evening we talked, reassuring each other of our love, wondering how we can make the necessary adjustments. Our life together has been this way from the beginning. I've often felt like we were on a merry-go-round that kept picking up speed till we go flying off. Slowing it down is at times pretty difficult, but we know that if we don't do it, whichever one of us got thrown off last won't be able to climb back on. And climb back on, we must. We Americans tend to think that not only is bigger better, faster is, too. It's not. It's just faster, and the pace can be fatal to intimacy. So we talk. And we figure out how to redeem those smaller snippets of time for those days and weeks when life's merry-go-round gets to spinning, we're found standing side by side so the centrifugal force is driving us together instead of pulling us apart.