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On Thanksgiving morning seven of us woke up in Mom and Dad’s house—Mom and Dad, yours truly, my sister-in-law, and her three daughters. Two of our family were missing. My brother was in Afghanistan. And M.K., who had gotten the whole week off from work, had spent the previous few days in the deer woods and taking care of ever-needy family members.
M.K. arrived around mid-morning and quickly headed to the bathroom for a much-needed cleanup. I followed and sat in on the whole process of removing the dirty camo outfit and shaving and bathing. We had not seen each other in days and needed a bit to be alone together and chat.
We’re a funny looking couple, I guess, a fine example of “opposites attract” in action. One is tall (ish) and slim; the other short and powerfully built and rather heavy. One is gentle and shy by nature; the other quite assertive and never meets a stranger. Opposite characteristics are supposed to balance each other out, and I suppose we do a pretty good job of that.
For all the opposites we also share a lot in common. We believe the same things. We’re both committed to family. Family responsibilities are a part of why we’re apart a little more than we’d like sometimes. It is hard for both of us to be apart for more than a couple of days at a time.
After the bath we visited with our family and kept the nieces amused until the Thanksgiving meal. M.K. had started experiencing stomach trouble and did not eat very much at all—and soon went upstairs to lie down. I followed.
It is pretty frustrating to see your beloved sick and miserable and not be able to do anything about it. A very unfortunate childhood and Type 2 diabetes have left M.K. with a rather weak immune system. A previous week of hunting and chauffeuring around the relatives and getting exposed to their illnesses had done their work all too well.
What could I do now? Nothing, except try to help M.K. relax and rest, gently rubbing back and shoulders to take attention away from the bad feelings. After a while we both dozed off for a time.
When I awoke M.K. was still dropping in and out of sleep. I rubbed the broad back and deep shoulders again, stroked the lovely hair and watched it turn colors in the late afternoon sun that beamed through the window. We spooned. Our legs became entangled. After days apart male and female had come very close together. I felt a stirring of the urge to unite them. And yet illness kept us from that joyful union.
I had to put that last thought out of my mind. Lying together and feeling M.K. against me was a quieter joy. We were with each other. That was something to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day.
After about three hours together I left M.K. sleeping soundly and went downstairs to rejoin the others. I took the youngest girls outside for an evening walk with their dogs. We came back in and ate supper and played Jenga. Around ten I awoke M.K. for the necessary business of taking the evening medicine. Eventually we all turned in.
M.K. spent most of the next day in bed, resting and reading (and throwing up a couple of times) while I helped Dad take down a dead tree in the yard and spent more time with the girls. The girls went upstairs in the evening and visited the patient. We got some couple time as well. The next day M.K. felt well enough to go back for another try in the deer woods.
I spent Saturday and most of Sunday with family. We played more games and spent more time with each other. Sunday morning I saw the girls off on their trip back home and attended church with Mom and Dad. I got to say hello to their church members whom I don’t see often enough.
In the evening I drove home through intermittent rain, ready at last to find M.K. well. Sadly, that was not what I found. More chauffeuring (a nephew had needed to go to the Little Rock Airport, two or three hours’ rainy drive away, to catch an early-morning flight) and another attempt at hunting had brought about a relapse. We quietly read and watched TV and enjoyed each other’s company until bedtime. Then M.K. went to sleep in my arms.
Today I went to work and M.K., still ill, typed up a lesson plan for a substitute teacher and called in sick. This evening when I came home and fixed supper, M.K. did not feel like eating anything. The day has been one of vomiting, headaches, and muscle soreness. Tomorrow M.K. will see the doctor about it.
We’re opposites, all right. One is passive and a continual worrier, yet healthy as a horse and somehow a boss in charge of a staff. The other is a determined go-getter who thrives in the high-stress career of public school teacher, yet has a weak system that all the determination in the world sometimes can’t overcome.
I often feel that I’m the weaker of the two. But I have to be the one who takes care. I have to be strong when my strong one is weak. It’s good that love can make you strong for someone else when you have to be.
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The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls who, when he found an especially costly one, sold everything he had to buy it.
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