Apparently Marriage=Murder

I hadn’t been to the nursing home to visit in a week. Thus my new friend, who we will call Ms. W, thought that I had been murdered. Or I had gotten married. I walked in the room and Oh honey I just thought you had been murdered. I misunderstood. I thought she said married. And I seemingly made the mistake of asking. Married? I thought that too! Nevertheless it led to her explanation of how marriage = murder.

You just never know who you are marrying. It could be a scam straight out of prison! I assured her that I had not been murdered (obviously) and was not seeking marriage, but that if I got married I would try to find a ‘good guy.’ But no. Although there are a few good ones, every other one is bad. Men just push you around once you get married. I am 20 years old now and need to get some sense.

I wanted to continue the conversation and delve into her mind and heart—to figure out what brought her to such a place. For as funny as it is and as much as I laughed with her at the time, my heart breaks for her. Unfortunately Judge Judy stole her attention and our conversation was directed toward the tv.  

Looking around the room, a picture or two hang on the wall and a couple others sit on the shelf. She looks so composed and so happy. As I glance back at Ms. W, I see a woman aged by physical and emotional pain. A bathrobe replaces a dress, and confusion seems to fill the holes that are left by the toll that the years have taken. Nevertheless, she remains full of life.

She is sassy. She wants her some glittery TOMS. Why didn’t I buy her some with my last paycheck she wants to know?  She is witty. She keeps hoping Arthur will go away. He has made a home in her knees and is hurting her. And he isn’t even paying rent! She loves. She wanted to protect me.

And all this leaves me wondering—how do you get in your life from the picture hanging on the wall to the women dressed in the bathrobe, sitting on the bed? Every moment is fleeting. The second hand continues circling the clock, the pages on the calendar continue changing, and the seasons of our lives seem to quickly come and go. So I am left not with an answer, but with motivation to make every season be full of purpose, to give thanks for every page of the calendar, and to seek the Lords will in every second. May I bring Him glory with the time in between.

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