“Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I” wrote US songwriter Lorenz Hart about the feeling of infatuation. It’s blissful and euphoric, as we all know. But it’s also addicting, messy and blinding. Without careful monitoring, its wild wind can rage through your life leaving you much like the lyrics of a country song: without a wife, […]
Yesterday I popped in on Bill to see how he was doing. I suspect the week after the funeral is the hardest, when all the company has left, and you’re there among her dresses and jewelry and paintings and books, and you have to decide what to do with it all. And how to begin each day without the person with whom you shared your life.
During our chat, poor Bill was having problems with his pronouns.
“Next week we are going…I mean, I am going to California. And then at the end of the month, we had planned…I mean, I am planning…” He sighed and then took a deep breath, his eyes filling with tears. “I guess I have to get used to different pronouns,” he said.
It’s the same sort of adjustment you make (but not as happy) when you get married, and start to use the “we” pronoun.
I thought about this today when I received a loving e-mail from one of my readers, Jack.
“The thing that has helped me the most [with depression] besides regular medication is leaning on Christ when it hits,” he wrote. “When Jesus encounters his mother on his way to the cross, he says only one thing to her, ‘Mother, I make all things new.’ That’s what he’s doing for you, too, Therese. He is constantly rebuilding you, shaping your character to be like his, making your life new with every breath you take.”
I think what Jack meant by this is that I should start using the “we” pronoun, because God is always with me.
And you should too.