Life's a Dance
My dear husband made the sweetest offer.
"Go sit. Relax. Read a book. Drink something warm. I'll put the kids to bed tonight."
He's been gone a lot so far in 2015--away from Nairobi for something like 17 days of the first 31. It was all really important stuff, and I was happy to hold down the fort while he was gone, but I'm tired. Particularly tired of my nemesis, otherwise known as bedtime. My heart swelled at his offer.
I had been pondering several blog ideas throughout the day. Moses and his staff were on my mind. As was a scene in a great movie called Instinct. Swirlings of thought I figured might come together nicely with a hot cup of apple cider, my hair up, and my door closed against the bedtime routine of 4 happy, hyper children.
I got the cider made and the hair up, but just as I sat down...life.
Sometimes life comes in the form of an unexpected visitor, since we live at the guesthouse. Often it's a phone call. At times it's all forms of new-under-the-sun crazy from the kids. Tonight it was a combination. Chad's phone rang (one of his main student leaders) at the same time one child had sudden, explosive diarrhea...and didn't make it to the toilet in time.
Dearest Chad. He had the best intentions of letting me put my feet up and eat bonbons for once, but it was not to be. Just the phone call? No problem. But I couldn't leave him stranded in the middle of a code brown!
It was right for Chad to offer me a break after an intensive few weeks solo. It was right, and I accept its intention for all the love it was offered with. But it was also right for me to roll up my sleeves without being asked...my hair was already up, remember?...to help with the messiness of life when everything (literally) exploded.
So I guess that's the dance of marriage--both knowing when to offer grace, and knowing when to accept it. When it works the way it's supposed to, what a beautiful flow it has! We've stepped on each others toes aplenty these 16 years, but it's a dance I long to get right.
So my deep and ponderous blog didn't get written, and my cider cooled down. But my kids are clean and unashamed and resting up for another day. And Chad and I both feel loved and supported in this life, despite never knowing exactly when or where the poop may fall--all because he showed his love by making an offer I couldn't refuse; and I refused it anyway.
Perhaps I'll get my quiet time tomorrow. Or not, knowing life. Sometimes it really is the thought that counts!
"Go sit. Relax. Read a book. Drink something warm. I'll put the kids to bed tonight."
He's been gone a lot so far in 2015--away from Nairobi for something like 17 days of the first 31. It was all really important stuff, and I was happy to hold down the fort while he was gone, but I'm tired. Particularly tired of my nemesis, otherwise known as bedtime. My heart swelled at his offer.
I had been pondering several blog ideas throughout the day. Moses and his staff were on my mind. As was a scene in a great movie called Instinct. Swirlings of thought I figured might come together nicely with a hot cup of apple cider, my hair up, and my door closed against the bedtime routine of 4 happy, hyper children.
I got the cider made and the hair up, but just as I sat down...life.
Sometimes life comes in the form of an unexpected visitor, since we live at the guesthouse. Often it's a phone call. At times it's all forms of new-under-the-sun crazy from the kids. Tonight it was a combination. Chad's phone rang (one of his main student leaders) at the same time one child had sudden, explosive diarrhea...and didn't make it to the toilet in time.
Dearest Chad. He had the best intentions of letting me put my feet up and eat bonbons for once, but it was not to be. Just the phone call? No problem. But I couldn't leave him stranded in the middle of a code brown!
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| Flowers and Buffalo Poo |
So I guess that's the dance of marriage--both knowing when to offer grace, and knowing when to accept it. When it works the way it's supposed to, what a beautiful flow it has! We've stepped on each others toes aplenty these 16 years, but it's a dance I long to get right.
So my deep and ponderous blog didn't get written, and my cider cooled down. But my kids are clean and unashamed and resting up for another day. And Chad and I both feel loved and supported in this life, despite never knowing exactly when or where the poop may fall--all because he showed his love by making an offer I couldn't refuse; and I refused it anyway.
Perhaps I'll get my quiet time tomorrow. Or not, knowing life. Sometimes it really is the thought that counts!
Good post Miriam. I am not sure how I missed all of your posts before the last one and this one, but you write very well. Miss you both!
ReplyDeleteMiriam, I will keep this one for some of our marriage counseling. Names changed to protect the innocent of course. How many time can I remember being on that end because of Chad. You should have taken the call and mad him do the cleaning up the explosion. But that is not always the way "life" treats us. You are a good wife for my crazy son. We love you a lot.
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