Huh.
Anyone who's read this blog from the "Before All of This" days, or B.C. (Before Cancer) is probably aware that the one thing I feared most about being a minister was crying. I was a crier. You know how movie stars get botox in their armpits to keep from sweating? I thought it patently unfair that they couldn't botox my tear ducts. Laughing, sad, I cried. Frustrated, I cried. Hallmark commercials, I cried. It was a family joke (in the way that it's not really funny to the person concerned) about what a crybaby I was.
Last Fall, I had two big challenges. I had to give a sermon the Sunday after Hurricane Katrina -- well, the song I had picked out, two months earlier, was Bridge Over Troubled Water. Boo-hoo.
Then, a coupla months later, an older friend of mine died. And I had to do the memorial service.
Tonight, I watched House. In it, a baby died. After being suffocated by his mother, who was insane at the moment. The Husband could barely stand it. Audible sniffs.
For me, no tears. Total detachment.
Huh.
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3 comments:
It is amazing how personal crisis can change you. I have gone the opposite directions. I used to be a tough show no pain no tears kinda gal. Now I cry if I cant find the remote.
You know, I thought of you and so many other parents of sick children when I saw that episode of "House." It didn't really move me, either, and I think it's because it was somehow directed in a really detached way.
I'd say you're getting a little blunted, and not in a good way. But that's just my "insane person spouting off" opinion.
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