I have not forgotten the monotony our lives used to have. It was predictable with the occasional flaw of bridge traffic and weather that cancelled our weekend camping. Our thoughts revolved around what's for dinner and whose turn it was for the tread mill. We slept in the same bed and complained daily about who kept whom awake the most.
My devotions were daily but seldom involved tears. Steven and I spent lots of time teasing each other. He would surprise me with things all the time. Each season brought new chores and we both knew what ours were. We never ate out but sometimes would get a pizza. Who orders out with a cook like Steve?
There was the usual forewarning of each season when you are in the same house over 20 years. Box elder bugs usher in Spring, the quietness of waking to a snow covering, the smell of freshly mowed yards, the sound of leaves under foot.
But everything is different now. We live the opposite of predictable and routine. It is a world of peril and uncertainty. I don't know who does anything and I'm not sure I care. My thoughts revolve around each new symptom Steve has, and what it means. This is day 4 of total exhaustion. Should I worry? My devotions are out of desperation and weakness. I'm needy and hurting and welcome the haze of numbness that comes just before I fall asleep.