After a really rough couple days, I think I can (hopefully safely) say The Husband is responding well to the antibiotic. He seems better. In almost every way. My heart is happy.
But...since I really didn't want him around other people in his health-depleted state, that meant no church for us today. Frankly, he wasn't really up to it anyway. I wasn't comfortable leaving him. So we stayed home. We'll fast next week to make up for not fasting (he needs to be well hydrated to recover) today. It has felt odd all day long.
Church is often quite challenging for me. People are people, who they are and who they aren't isn't always pleasant or fun. But we're all flawed, right? I expected to feel fine about staying home. Instead I felt sort of - I guess - bereft. Missing those few people who acknowledge us. Missing the sacrament. Missing the hymns. I'll be so happy to get back there next week. Especially for the sacrament. I think we all need it.
Spent the afternoon reading a book that I wasn't even sure I really wanted to read. Ended up enjoying it immensely.
Came across this quote that I like. No idea who to attribute this to, I would if I could.
In English, we say: Happy New Year. 🥂
But in poetry, we say: May this year treat your heart gently, return your strength in quiet ways, heal what last year couldn’t hold, and remind you that surviving was already a victory.
And I love this from Jeffrey Holland. Conference will never be the same without his wisdom and ability to articulate love, righteousness and lofty ideals we should all strive for.
I'm grateful today for The Husband's improvement. It will take some while longer, I know, for him to return to full health. Pneumonia is no small matter, especially when you're no longer young. And I'm grateful to know that next Sunday will feel better, more like it should.
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