Sunday, October 21, 2012

Tough Love

I really wish people would get their "stuff" together.
There is a woman. A character, who shows up near my block who begs for money. If there is one good thing I could say about Cindy the Crackho (later crack dealer), she worked for it. On various occasions I have pointed the beggar to one of several organizations (Bread for the City being one) where she could get a meal, and maybe get in touch with their holistic services, so she can get her stuff together. However, after several interactions with this woman, from making her a sandwich to buying her some groceries, I don't think she's interested in getting her stuff together. That pisses me off. I'm going to have to stop caring about this person because her constant excuses for not lifting herself up (or reaching out to some professionals who can assist) is pissing me off.
I guess I can be more sympathetic to one dimensional characters and strangers.
My sister, more so when she was younger,  was a person who didn't have their stuff together. I love my sister. It was a good thing that we were several states away because there was stuff she'd do that would make me so angry, that if we lived in the same town, I'd have a criminal record. If I didn't love her, I wouldn't have cared.
Love is not just rainbows and soft cotton candy. It can be painful, painful to see the people you love not doing their best, being less than what they are or can be, wasting themselves. It is really hard with family members who you love, especially if one or more is on a downward or circular spiral and would really like it if you didn't mess with their trajectory.
Jesus calls us to love our neighbors and our enemies. I struggle with that. Besides the obvious, there is the problem (with those falling under "neighbor") of having to have your heart broken in that love. Or to be torn.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Sickness & in health

The Help came down with a cold.
I, thank the Lord, am fine. With rest and eye-talian cough syrup (equal parts honey, lemon juice and cognac, heated in the microwave) I've so far kept illness at bay.
This weekend I figured my job as wife and helpmate was to make sure he didn't go anywhere. Seriously, if he had his way, he'd be dragging his diseased corpse to outer Maryland for his weekend volunteer gig and then at church spreading the love and the germs. The most loving thing I could do for my guy and the health of the DC metro area was to keep him in bed and try to stay cold-free myself.
Thankfully we have a second room. It still isn't up to guest room snuff yet. So after 1 night of hacking and tossing, we slept separately. I miss him and I love him, he with the raw red nose and looking like an extra from a zombie movie. I love him and he is mine, every germy snotty coughy inch of him.