He walks into the kitchen at 5:30. I’ve got salmon in the oven, potatoes on the stove, and a salad in the works.
“Can we talk?”, he asks.
“Sure, but I think I’ve said all I need to say,” I snap back.
I share my heart, rather passionately, and he disappears into the bathroom. IBS.
I serve dinner and we bless Isaac. It’s his turn and we all find something good in our fourth child and he smiles.
Dinner is quick because the kids don’t care much for fish and I only cook one meal each night. They pick over their plates until I think they have sat there long enough. I release them to the wild outdoors and the man and I try to come to some sort of truce, agreement, plan of action. Anything.
He stares at me as I am overcome with another spell of coughing. I know he is waiting for me to pinpoint the source of all these words and feelings and frustrations. I have nothing.
“Who can you call to help you process what I’ve unloaded on you?” I ask. He shruggs his shoulders and I stand to begin clearing the table.
I retreat to the kitchen and he walks the dog.
The kids come in for their baths and they are bathed, two by two. The house is settling and growing quiet and I know bedtime can’t come soon enough.
I hear the man’s phone. He has a text from someone who would love to chat this evening, so he retreats to the porch swing to make a phone call.
I finish picking up the house and I vacuum the dining room rug. I try to bring a little order to the mess and distract myself from the mess I feel in my soul.
An hour passes and he walks back into the house, smiling.
“I get it. I understand.”, he says. Tears brim my eyes. “What did he say?”, I ask.
Words of understanding and truth, from someone, who just last year, was in the same spot we are now in church planting.
The Lord provides.
“We’ll make a big change right after labor day. It’s the right thing to do. For our family.”, he says.
I smile a thankful sort of smile.
I say, “You can keep our resevations for the church planting conference in October. I’ll still go.”
He smiles from across the room.
And tomorrow’s a new day…