Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Dried out and cracking

We've had a pretty rough evening.  They happen from time to time -- a bit less often, or a bit more understandably, since we started with a new doctor in November -- and I can say, with true, deep feeling, that I don't like them.

When people are crying, when people are yelling, when the dogs slink out the doggie door and cower on the deck until the air is calm again, I can say that I don't much like them.

When blame flies in all directions, when logic is abandoned, when anger, not love, rules, I can say that my heart hurts, and I don't like them.

The new doctor said that I seem to be the glue that holds my family together.  (No pressure there, eh?)  I can say that tonight, the glue seems to be dried out and cracking.

So what to do?  Patch over it and clamp it all together?  Break the bonds and let the family fall apart?  Dig out the old, cracked glue and reassemble with better cement?

I don't think I have the intrinsic strength to be the glue any longer.  I don't think I can live with my family in pieces.  I don't have the formula for a better cement.  And I know for sure that I don't have a magic wand.

If you're the praying sort, I certainly wouldn't mind it if you lifted up my family.

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