It was on the way to a wedding out of town when we were finally alone, breathing in the same space of air, dressed up and smelling nice when I let him into the folds of my heart.
I let him in only to let him see that my folds are wearing thin.
He kept quiet and steady, his eyes never leaving the road, his hands always 10 and 2.
I erupted in white hot fury,words free to fly in a car with no little ears listening. It’s always the same conversation and the many hats we both wear and the kids and the church and the homesickness that never goes away.
I’m good with words and he’s good of heart and there in the car we courted both anger and love.
Roads paved in the heart of farmland stretched before us. Barns raised up out of the earth and fields of corn and tobacco sprung up on the side of the road and produce stands flecked in red berries called to me.
Sun scorched the asphalt , it’s heat shimmering above the pavement and I looked out across the fields of green remembering how long I have loved this man.
I sighed long and deep and he gently probed me for more words, more feelings.
“Is this just hard or would you say this is unbearable?” he asked, softly. “Is it unbearable now?”
I rested my head against the window on my side of the car and closed my eyes. “It’s just hard,” I answered.
I heard him sigh, long and deep, before he answered me. “Okay. We can work with that,” he said.
The road rolled gently as we made our way to Crenshaw Hall. Trees bent over dirt paths and lanterns lined our way. Jars of flowers hung from stakes pressed deep into soil and he walked next to me, his jacket hung over his arm.
I captured slivers of beauty while we waited for the sun to fall and he held my heart in the palm of his hand.
We sat, side by side, in the garden and I cried when the bride stood at the top of the stairs.
I cried because she was beautiful and because marriage is hard and because God is good.
We stayed through dinner and my love gave the blessing for the meal and in the midst of the father of the bride’s immense joy he, in turn, blessed my husband.
And I cried again, because God is not only good, He is faithful.
We left Crenshaw Hall just before dark, my arm and heart folded into his and both of us wrapped in God’s goodness and His faithfulness.
And on the way home, I remembered how long my God has loved me.
*Y’all, we are okay. Really. Marriage is just hard. And compound it with the 73 other stressors we’ve experienced in the last 3 years, some days are harder than others. I love this man of mine and he loves me and we love our children and we are trying really hard to walk a rough road with Jesus right this minute. Thank you for extending grace to us. We would not change a thing in our current situation. I am just trying to stay true to my voice and journal in real time so that you, the reader, may see Jesus in the whole story and not just in the pretty parts. Without the messy chapters, there would be no story and no need for Jesus.
Much love, as always~