I’m a little bit proud of us.
Cause tonight, when Papa Bear’s work day began to drag into the evening (like it’s been doing, recently, since his work load has instantly doubled), I didn’t resent him for being gone while I was at home with a mess of kids. I didn’t wonder if he could be working a little faster and was possibly wasting time. I didn’t suspect him of anything I might have in the past.
I know, I’m presenting myself in such a flattering light, here.
Instead, I felt sorry for him. You know, like I should! I felt sorry that he was working in the freezing cold while I was in our warm little home with my babies. And I didn’t just keep those thoughts to myself, either.
Nope, I texted them.
“I’m so in love with my hard working husband!”
And then, knowing how much I meant every word, I just sat and smiled at the screen.
When Papa Bear left, I made no secret of the fact that the things Satan had wedged between us were not actual things (the past never counts), but were vain imaginations. And vain imaginations produce vain thoughts, and vain thoughts produce vain words and emotions and facial expressions…and eventually vain actions. We all need to be appreciated. And we all need to believe that we’re better than where we’ve been (especially since, more often than not, we simply become who we’re believed to be). Papa Bear’s leaving wasn’t my fault, I’ve never meant to insinuate that. But I could have made it harder for Satan to get a toe in.
And I plan to, til death do us part.
_________________________________ (pretend this line is a brilliant segue.)
A few days ago, we had a beautiful snowstorm. Yes, I just used the words “beautiful” and “snow” in the same sentence…and it’s waaay past October. I don’t know what’s gotten in to me. I stepped outside in my bare feet to untangle the dog’s leash (he’s supposed to carry it inside the house, but sometimes he has trouble), and I saw that about a foot of fluffy, gorgeous powder had fallen since I’d last thought to check. I whispered, “Oh, please let my husband go skiing tomorrow.” And then I wandered back inside, holding a shivering dog and still muttering a prayer.
“It’s March, and he hasn’t gone skiing yet this season. I’d really love it if you’d do this for him tomorrow.”
I almost got on Facebook to see if anyone had extra tickets for the next day. I almost did. But God said something equivelant to, “I’ve got this.” So, I stopped.
By the evening, I’d forgotten all about it. That is, until Papa Bear stood in the kitchen scooping green chili stew from the crock pot as I laid on my back on the living room floor (I’d eaten hours before). We were both exhausted. These past few weeks have been exhausting. Then, he said…a little worried…
“Ummm, Mr. So and So has an extra ticket for tomorrow. If I can manage a day off, what would you think of my spending it skiing?”
And a smile lit across my face.