The Quiet of a Sunday Morning

Dearest Rachel –

I know the number of letters that I’ve written you have started to drop off since my return from overseas. Part of that is because I don’t consider things here to be all that interesting (or unfamiliar to you), and therefore worthy of comment. Part of it is because there are things that I need to do or are distracted by (take your pick – it’s probably a matter of perspective), thus reducing the amount of time I have to speak with you.

But there’s also the fact that I’m not alone here, compared to that hotel room over in Basel. There, I could talk to you nearly incessantly without appearing to the outside observer is being a little around the bend. And while it’s possible that Daniel wouldn’t come to that conclusion were he to watch or listen to me as I dictated this to Siri, I would understand his curiosity as to why I would focus on writing you rather than spending time with him. After all, he’s here, and you’re not; best to attend to those that hand, rather than those who are not. It’s part of the point of just hanging out together and watching videos like we did yesterday from when he woke up.

Which leads us to where we are right now. I was wondering if we would be going to church today, as he’s still recovering from whatever he may have had. I found myself waking up a little after six this morning, but he’s still asleep as the clock creeps past ten. And while I can go into a room out of earshot to dictate these letters, I have to be careful not to make too much noise, and possibly wake him up before his time. Whenever that time may be.

This results, ironically, in a Sunday morning that’s almost quieter than any of those days spent alone in the hotel. Even traffic is still on a Sunday morning here, whereas the trams were still running regularly (if slightly less frequently on the weekends) outside my window over there.

And I’m not sure what to do with myself in the meantime. Even now, I find myself debating as to whether I should wake him up, and drag him off to church, when it’s quite likely that some people would be concerned about whether he’s contagious or not. But if he were to stay home, I should probably stay here with him and keep him company as we watch the online service together. It’s not an ideal situation, but it is how it is.

It’s times like this I wish all three of us had maintained fairly similar sleep schedules. As it is, I’ve no idea how late he went to bed, even in his still-weakened condition. If he needs the extra sleep in order to recover, I have no problem with it, but I would prefer him to be awake when the sun is (especially at this time of year, when there’s so little of it to enjoy and appreciate). Add to that the fact that the online services are as scheduled as those that we might attend in person, and you understand my concern that he be awake at a certain time.

But for now, I find myself sitting in a quiet part of the house (which admittedly doesn’t narrow it down in the slightest, but suffice to say, I’m trying to be as far away from him as possible, so as to let him sleep), wondering aloud to you as to what I ought to do. For the time being, I am determined to let nature take it’s course; should he sleep past a quarter till, that will go past the point of no return, and I should simply turn on the monitor in the family room to watch the service from there. Should he wake up sooner, I will discuss it with him. But I’m not about to force the issue.

And with that being said, I’m not sure if I’m being overly permissive, or taking just the right amount of caution towards the situation. I’ve discussed the matter briefly with the folks, and they seem supportive of this decision.

Of course, I’ve learned over the course of this past month that wise counsel only takes me so far. For all the planning, and all the decisions, that I check and double check with those I feel are smarter or wiser than I am, that doesn’t guarantee that the agreed-upon decision is the right one. ‘Man proposes, and God disposes,’ the saying goes, and all I can do is to hope that this current plan doesn’t fly in the face of what He would have us do.

Well, I’ll find out soon enough; in the next ten minutes or so, in fact. As always, honey, wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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