In part, because our house is a DMZ patrolled by these marauders...
They have a wonderful way of dividing and conquering - - they send an innocent-looking little baby to one side to try and distract the mama ( it almost always works) while across the way the barriers go up. By the time we even know it, we're trapped on opposite sides of the house screaming important life details like " exactly which medication was I taking?" This sort of thing seems like it will eventually lead to another delightful visit to the emergency room, with my face swollen up like a puffer fish.
( thankfully, that hasn't happened yet.)
The other reason we don't have a lot of normal adult conversations anymore is that I think we're both sick of talking about the super serious stuff. There's only so much you can reflect on an upcoming eulogy or exactly how much pain you're in on a scale of one to ten before it just gets a little tedious.
And so we skip the 'normal' conversation and revel in the unusual. We choose to snort when delightful younger set has an engaging conversation full of unintentional double entendre. Literally, they had one today that I don't think I can transcribe without getting banned from this blog and /or arrested.
We choose to delight in the fact that even as life draws to a close, God's good gift of humor still remains intact. Recently Rachel's terminally ill father woke up at one point from a near -coma muttering
"crisis..."
"averted."
So no, life won't be normal for a while, if ever. But maybe, in the mystery of God's grace, it was never normal anyway.
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