Both children are asleep, my bread is rising and I’m sitting alone in the house flipping channels and aimlessly searching the internet. Jonathan’s working his first closing shift at Chick-Fil-A and when he told me about it I was excited. I was excited about having him home during the kids awake hours. I was excited about having a quiet evening at home. I was excited about the possibilities. . .
. . . right up until he kissed me good bye and walked out the door at 3:00 this afternoon. I was completely unprepared for the wave of sadness that swept over me. This is the first time in four years that my husband has gone to work without me. It’s the first time in the mackerdoodle’s life (and I suppose the cheesedoodle’s as well) that he has gone to work without her.
I am officially a stay-at-home-mom – a job I spent years begging the Lord for – and I love it. I love that my kitchen is tidy and my laundry is folded, and I didn’t have anyone coming to see the house or visit us to make me do that. I love that I am the one potty training my daughter. I love that I adjusted my husband’s collar over his bright red Chick-Fil-A tie before he left.
I love that my husband has a job. I love that he feels that he has a purpose, and is proud of the company for which he works. I love that he left for work with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. I love that he is developing a skill that will help him get a job if/when he makes it to seminary.
But I couldn’t help but feel a sense of helplessness as he drove off to work this afternoon, with the mackerdoodle waving out the window to the disappearing van. I really believed that we would be in St. Louis by now and that I would be kissing my husband goodbye on his way to seminary. Instead, he’s off to work at a job that, frankly, won’t pay our bills, and I’m at home cleaning a kitchen that no one wants to look at or buy. There’s so much to praise the Lord for – so much to love about my current circumstances – but this evening I’m reminded of what isn’t, as well as what is, and I wonder . . .