I have a husband again.

Seth came home last Saturday, and his presence is like oil on the gears. Suddenly there's another set of hands to help the Boo put in the movie she wants or to take the dog out.  Usually upon his homecoming, I have a struggle with myself when I let some of the responsibilities fall back on him.  Not this time.  This time, I was only too happy to realize that I didn't have to do everything on my daily to do list.  In fact, I actually had a chance to pick up a book and read for an hour today, and Seth looked at me and confessed that he actually doesn't know what all he's going to do for the rest of the week.  I think next week, when his full schedule kicks in, we'll find out how busy we're really going to be.   

It's amazing how much difference having my husband home makes in my outlook.  This week has not been pretty.  Monday was leading up to the election.  Tuesday was the election.  Wednesday morning we found out that we lost the election.  Then we found out our checking account and savings account were empty because Seth's travel expenses came through before his expense report did.  Normally, this would have sent me into a tailspin, and I'd be freaking out and jumping at my own shadow.  (Moms, we're okay.  Everything worked out fine. Praise God.)

However, having my husband home lifts me out of that any possibility of spiral.  His presence reminds me of the solid ground beneath my feet.  It gives me more than the ability to think and plan; I get a bouyancy that doesn't deflate.  I'm like a Weeble -- I wobble, but I don't fall down. 

Part of my mind says, "Really, God should do that for you. You shouldn't be dependent on the presence of your husband for mental and emotional bouyancy."  But God designed the family structure intentionally, and I fought it for a long time.  I spent a year and a half insisting that I didn't need a man, and God has used the past eight years to show me that yes, I do.  The way I need Seth is the way I need God, only smaller.  It in no way compromises my responsibilities or my capacities.  If anything, his presence enhances both.  With our family structure restored, I'm freed from all the worry and stress that came from doing what needed to be done, alone. 


Alone is one of the worst words in the English Lexicon in my opinion.  Lonely can have romantic connotations.  Lonesome is an insubstantial heart sound.  It can be wrapped around other thoughts or feelings.  It can be pushed away by work or company.  But  alone is the substance of walking into a house and being greeted by a silence that only you will break for the next three months.  Alone rips the ribs off your heart and leaves it exposed to all the elements as they come at you.  Alone means having no close equal, no constant witness, no designated partner for this project called life.  And Lord willing, I'll never have to face that feeling again. 

Now begins the new and more pleasant challenge of learning to live with the expectation of having my husband on a daily basis.  This is the first time in our married lives that we haven't had an imminent date of separation looming.  We have new schedules to balance (especially with the demise of my Buick), and obviously, we have to work on some communication skills, but I can sit at the dinner table and look into his eyes.  I can lie down in bed at night and think, "He was here today" and feel his warmth under the covers as confirmation. 

No longer do I have to store up family memories to share with him on his return.  He'll be here to make those memories with us.  In my mind's eye, holidays and summer vacations recede into the future like bright, golden memories uninterrupted by the prospect of deployment or training.  I tell you, it's a wonderful sight.