My sister admitted tonight that she had been drinking, but better stop and sober up for church in the morning. Perhaps that second choice makes her a better person than I am, maybe, but I’ll leave that to God to judge. Tonight, 2.05am, my sister decides to contact me and relay the news that Aunty Gwen died last Wednesday. She found out last Wednesday. Three days later they tell me. Despite not having my number (my decision) they have been given Bridgette’s number and Jason had my Facebook details. No excuses.
I don’t recall swearing at her but I did say I was tired of being the last to be considered, and the first to pick up the pieces. I refrained from repeating the littany of grievances I have with her. I refrained from buying into her current crop of health complaints. I didn’t mention my experiences with the words of drunks. I’m not good though, and pointedly told her I had cut both my sisters off.
This picture is not that of a functioning family. At home, my home, my family, there are other issues lurking which may yet break us up, but we are talking and loving in our idiosyncratic ways. What wisdom guides my choices in all this? That is what The Bible is short on. That is why I consider myself Pagan. I need a wisdom that shows me how to love myself, and who to direct my “care” resources to. God loves me, and certainly loves my sisters (that’s why I’m not God), and I love him, but that glosses over what love looks like in detail. The detail includes not calling an ambulance or police, to keep a loved one out of the psyche ward. It also includes hoping and dreaming, when you can do nothing else, that the dsyfunctional may become functional. Happy ever after notions of a loving family is an ideal type but the practice is far murkier. A message at 2.05am showed that.