The Reasons

Sunlight greeted my pillow at 6:00 this morning.  I rubbed my stinging eyes a couple time, wiping away the residue from my tears the night before.  I've cried a lot lately and there's much more to come these next several weeks.  More change than my stability loving nature feels ready for.  I'd disrespected my husband (and in front of others) without even knowing it, but his gentle conversation with me about that last night wasn't the only reason I cried.  He was so gentle and loving in the way that he talked to me about it.  I was confused and honestly shocked at the truth of how I'd behaved.  That's not a common mistake I make, not something I frequent.  As I let my emotional overcast get the better of me he quietly reassured me time and time again that our marriage isn't, "theirs".  Our marriage isn't "their's" either.  "You aren't her, and I'm not him."  These marriages we witness.  Marriages we've seen fall apart after years of fighting to make it work.  After years of disrespect and lack of love and pile upon piles of hurt and anger and bitterness.  Ours isn't theirs.  I know that.  I know that truth, but it hurts to the core for me anytime I see or DO something that even slightly resembles a weak point in those marriages.  I steer far clear of it.  He does, too.  We are under no illusion that I'm the only one that botches things.  He knows that and I know that, but last night it was me.  It wasn't even THAT big of a deal, but it was me.  But the tears weren't just for that. Its just everything right now.  

  It felt later, so I'd figured I'd once again overslept my opportunity for solitude.  For silent time with my Creator.  For a chance to watch the yellow rays shoot through the branches reaching to Heaven.  

My husband sat, sweaty and panting at the computer winding down from his run.  With a chance to run on my mind I asked what time he had to report to work.  I had time.  Not much, but time.  

Rhythmic breathing a bit more labored than it should be, the soft pad of my thin running soles, the occasional warble or whistle from the trees.  The bay was glass.  No boats.  A hint of a breeze swept off the water - just enough to grace me with that familiar salty smell.  It was short, but delightful.  All shade, all under high arching trees.  All by the glorious, still water.  My mind entirely on the short few weeks I have to cherish this season of our lives.  The short few weeks before we uproot and pull away.  The short few weeks before Florida is no longer home.

We have great anticipation about the island.  God has led us there, he has gone before.  We've had out sights on a house that just yesterday we found out is MUCH more expensive than we had understood it to be.  More expensive than we can really justify paying to rent.  We thought it was within the confines of the pay we receive for housing, but it's just not.  Really not even close.  It's not the house at all.  It's the yard.  It's the fenced, beauty, tree filled, freedom giving yard.  Like our yard here.  I rejoiced that it would ease our transition.  That it would ease the boy's transition.  These boys that for the past 3 years have grown up in a yard full of possibilities, secret hiding places, adventures to far off lands - all within safe confines.  All within confidence that they won't randomly wander into the street.  They gather and mix and water and discover and imagine.  Nearly every day.  The better part of of nearly every day.  Like boys need.  Yards are slim pickins on the island, so I lept at the chance at the one we've been looking at.  There's so many "I want"s.  He knows the desires of my heart.  Thats why we ended up in the house we have here.  That house that I THOUGHT was the desire of me heart wasn't even close.  This one fit the bill perfectly, and in a market with rare opportunity for renting by the base he opened this one just in the nick of time.  Just when we decided that he was leading us to look outside base.  

I got that chance.  The chance for solitude, though short lived.  The run, the time.  The tallest woke up before the others so we sat with our juices and read Psalms together.  It was precious.  So rare.  Breakfast on the deck with the boys as the morning Doves cooed was refreshing and relaxing.  

It's all small stuff in the grand scheme.  It adds to life and character and emotion and strength.  It files down the rough spots, the parts that haven't experienced, that don't understand.  All these experiences he's giving me.  That he's giving us.  They are all still very "first world".  They are so painful and real in my heart and in my thoughts.  But he doesn't leave my side.  His hand is always clasping mine.  His heart always near to mine.  His gentle words always speaking encouragement.  He's written the end.  He knows why.  He knows how.  

He just knows.