"hope in," not 'that'

The reading was from Romans...about HOPE...
But all day the verse that ran through my head was
Psalm 121:1 what I thought was...
My 'hope' comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
When I look it up later...I realize it is not 'hope'
It is 'HELP'
My help comes from the Lord...

even better!

I share all my stuff with my husband and he directs me back to the reflections and says 'hope in God, not that God...'
I tell him I know all that!!?
I need to be reminded of all that though...over and over...
I thank God for him!

I drop him off at work and proceed to my favorite drive thru, on the way to my hospice house, to get my own little fix;
my reward for feeling blue, for doing hard work, for anything and everything....
By the time I'm ordering my eyes are full of tears.
Where does this come from?!?
It's hormonal...don't even think about it.
Be a man!

But I do know where it comes from.
it's fear...of different things on different days, but always fear.
At least I can name it now, chase it back to where it comes from.

I'm afraid of the proximity/closenesss...
what does that bring/what will it bring?
It has already brought thoughts, that I have not had to think realistically about in along time,
back to the front of my mind.
The image in my mind has always been beautiful...
being a real artist, producing, and teaching, growing beautiful things, collecting wonderful children's books...
But now I know the real story...
of bad choices, indebtedness, self-medication...

It breaks my heart and brings it too close to home
just thru the hearing of the words and stories
And undoubtly more will be revealed....as time goes on.

What is my role in all of it?
Was it okay to be so distant?
What kind of person am I?

and it's right there again...the big I am not enough, I am wrong.

And then with these thougths in head and my drug of choice in hand I go to sit with Wally, my hospice guy.
I walk in and he's asleep, his wife rouses him to tell him she's leaving.

He tells me it's not such a good day, that he wasn't even able to get up and go out to the garage for his cigarette?!?
He says he had a rough night. I want to tell him it hasn't been the best for me either...
{a little later he actually tells me to tell him my woes...that he won't interrupt, it's just nice to hear talking...
I actually do take him up on the sharing of part of my woes}

So he sleeps for a little while then he removes his oxygen mask,
leaving his hair all rumpely and sticky uppy, and does his best to sit up and says
"now, I want you to work...answer my questions...
I brace myself, and he asks
"How long? days, weeks, months?"
I smile because I know he knows none of us knows.
We've talked of this before.
Actually last time he asked he wanted to know how he would know...
He smiles too, and says he is just really getting tired,
and I know he doesn't mean just from not sleeping last night.
I ask him what his other question is.
"What can I do for my 'care-giver'?"
I have to ask him if he means his wife, because of the unusual way he referred to her...
I ask him what he wants to do?
He says she is tired too...so unselfish, busy with everything, and worried for her own concerns, her mom...
He says they talk, he makes her sit and read...
But he can do nothing...

I assure him that his being here is his gift to her,
just still being here, for however long or short that may be.

My work...no answers...nothing solved...one more day of life.