Darling Husband and Sonny Boy are gone this week. They are off to Pittsburgh to work with a neighborhood restoration project and won’t be home til the weekend. The girls and I were planning a little “stay-cation”, but it’s turning into more “stay” than “-cation”. I had little ambition to do anything– especially the extra’s on my to-do list that need to get done. Jobs that would have gotten noticed had they been done. I’ve had an alarm set each morning, but had no energy to get moving. We three ladies have been quite lazy in fact. I’m not proud, not bragging, and also not feeling any grand scale remorse.
I, just now, pinpointed the cause. My heart misses him. I miss him, and the smell of work he has on him when he gets home after a long day, the touch of his hand on the back of my neck, the searching look in his eyes that goes away after our first hug and kiss.
We weren’t always like this. There was a time when we neither of us cared much if we ever saw the other again. Our selfishness and unwillingness to contribute 100% to marriage set us on a course hell-bent for destruction. We climbed the mountain called Rocky Marriage, and just about threw ourselves over the edge. We were on that precipace for a long time, too long. It’s a mental home video that’s still very painful, but the pictures are fading; some of the sound track lingers on. Unlike childbirth, the pain hasn’t been erased from my memory completely.
I don’t know if I want it too, either. Not so I can rehash the memory, but so I never forget where our marriage came from, what we went through. What I put him through. It needs to stay so we–no, I– always remember to work at keeping our marriage alive.
God was good, and He rescued us from ourselves, in spite of ourselves. He taught us how to forgive, and changed hearts to receive forgiveness.
So this week I’ve been feeling lost without him. I love that man in ways only the heart knows, in which words can not describe. Saturday can not come soon enough.