Taking stock and moving on

 

June among the flowers

Weekends, I often think, are a time to sit back and reassess, look at what the past week has brought, and think about what the next week will bring. For us in the Alter/Burton compound, today seems a time to reassess all of what 2023 has brought us. (I really like the idea of calling the way we live a compound, and last night a friend used that phrase too, so now I’m officially adopting it).

Yesterday was the celebration of life for Sandra Burton, Christian’s mother, who left us mid-March. The service and a reception were in Coppell. I did not attend because the kids didn’t need to worry about me and my walker when they had so many other responsibilities. Jacob tells me it was a beautiful service, and his dad delivered a lovely eulogy. From the program, I know that Sandra and I shared a love of old hymns—the music was “Into the Garden,” “Just as I am,” and “Amazing Grace.”

Last night there was a small gathering of friends here to show love and support for Christian. What started out as just nibbles and a few people turned into a crowd with a lavish table as people arrived with food and wine. Friends of mine joined friends of Jordan and Christian—many of the latter are like family to me, so there were lots of hugs. A really supportive evening just when one was needed.

Sophie enjoyed the gathering too. She senses when there are guests in the house and would have had one ballistic fit if left alone in the cottage. So I took her on a leash, and various people took turns holding the leash. Of course, all her favorites were there, and she literally lunged to get to each one.

We’ve had a rough year getting to this point—it started at Christmas when both Sophie and June Bug sickened. Junie, the younger of the Burton King Charles Cavalier spaniels, had a heart attack over six years ago and was given a year to live. She proved to have the nine lives of a cat and each time we thought we’d lose her, she bounced back. But not this time, when her back legs had given out on her, and she was barely eating. On Thursday, the vet helped her to the Rainbow Bridge, with her family—including her sister dog—around her for love. A double whammy for the Burtons. Sophie meanwhile recovered and, on insulin twice a day, is doing just fine.

Sandra’s health suddenly declined dramatically in early February, so her illness and death have consumed Christian and his family for two months, with decisions to be made about facilities, etc. Ultimately she died peacefully at home, under hospice care, with her family around her.

About the same time, my older and only brother fell, broke his kneecap and had surgery. In rehab he caught Covid, which was followed by pneumonia and a variety of other problems. He was briefly in hospice but rallied enough to go to a skilled nursing center with the goal of building his strength enough to go into PT. This morning, I learned he is back in the hospital with a new variety of problems. So perhaps the Lord isn’t quite through with us with.

In my contemplative moments today, I think life is a roller coaster—some days you’re up, some you’re down. But sometimes it isn’t just a bad day—it’s a whole bunch of bad days piled on top of each other until you think life is coming at you too fast and hard. But it’s like I’ve always believed about household problems such as plumbing snafus and appliance breakdowns—they come in threes, and then they are over. And I truly do have faith that the good days outnumber the bad. So now I have faith that we of the Alter/Burton compound (do you suppose Christian would say Burton/Alter?) are due for some good days. And that includes healing for my brother.

I sort of want to say, “Thank you, Lord. That’s enough now.” Prayers are appreciated.