Friday, January 9, 2009

Letter to friend: against darkness

While I wait for the DRANO to work in our tub b-4 I take my shower....I’ll write you.
Am feeling quite cocky. Yesterday I wrote a page for the next Notes.

I can’t wait to hear your songs. I hope you won’t be wearing angel costumes.
Macs are fun, and yes, I can distort myself with its camera, but I do that so easily without the Mac’s help.

Yes, well. I got in trouble with Denis because I forgot to take care of Margie. (He worries about me.) Spent more time and energy with our friends than I really had to offer. Somehow, I get to thinking that if Margie doesn’t take care of this or that person, then no one will, forgetting the OBVIOUS Being and Body involved in our lives. It is a perverse sort of pride that makes one so discontent with being finite. At the same time we want to kick against the fallenness of this life, lift the darkness a little bit, (be honest, Margie, you want to lift it completely) and it isn’t always possible. The thing so easy to forget is God’s ability to raise beauty out of ashes. I’ve witnessed it again and again, so why do I forget that, too?

Ransom’s board meeting is coming up. Next Wed. they begin arriving here in Rochester. We have spaces and places for them to stay. And two of the spouses, dear friends, are coming early to prepare food and to take over the cooking for me. How lucky is that? We relish our times together, it’s never long enough. We not only do “board business” we take care of each other, we watch a movie and talk, this year we read Home by Marilynn Robinson and we’ll discuss it together. Lots of love, prayer, and a little taste of heaven as we come together in joy, weariness, sometimes hurting, baffled, and yet we always leave encouraged and inspired to keep on.

So there’s a little snapshot of what I’m looking forward to.

And, oh. In the midst of whatever else. Dad (my step-father) had his foot amputated yesterday. My sisters and brothers have taken turns being with Mom at the hospital, which is a hundred miles from where they live. Everyone thought he might be dying. But he keeps on living and suffering. Unable to speak or move much, but very aware, most of the time. I offer all of it up -- a tangled ball for God to sort out. And I don’t dare think the shameful, selfish, God forgive me, question, how inconvenient will the timing of his death be for me?

Awwright. It’s time to unplug that drain.

5 comments:

kate o. said...

i love these words, margie. thoughts book-ended by talk of drano have just got to be honest and true.

i hope your time with the board falls under the category "taking care of margie." it sounds great.

Alina said...

I second Kate's words. The board time sounds so sweet and refreshing...I miss the times I've had like that in our former life working for churches.

I browsed through the '09 Rochester Labri conference pamphlet the other day and drooled at all the options for sessions to attend. I consoled myself by thinking it was really better I wasn't going because I'd simply have too hard of a time deciding between them all. (I don't think I fooled myself with that thought.)

jenni said...

Please take care of Margie. If we were in-person friends, I'd fix you tea (or coffee) and coconut flour chai cookies. :)

... To be a fly on the wall during your Home discussion! I loved that book.

I'm praying for your Dad today, too.

Margie Haack said...

Thank you, dear friends.

Kerri said...

I thought I was the only miserable sinner who thought about the inconvenience to me and my schedule about someone's death/illness/crisis.
Thanks for sharing so openly, Margie.