Last week, Mike's Aunt Beverly passed away in the early morning hours. We hadn't expected her second bout with cancer to end so soon. Try as I might, I could not put a good enough plan together for any of the kids to go with us in the middle of the week. Miranda offered herself up to manage the conflicting the schedules and somehow got the entire garden tilled also.
I really was torn. I never "want" to leave the children. Finally, one of the older ones clarified to me that instead of staying, I needed to go, not as a careless mother but as a good wife. After grappling with the condition I was leaving the house in, I let go.
See, although I'dve been here overseeing the children and home, it doesn't mean that this particular time it was God's will. It's safer for the whole family for me to be in His will.
So, I dug in my closet past the Ziploc bags, Band-Aids, and paper napkins, which I keep in there because if I leave them in the kitchen, we won't have any at all. I gathered my favorite things and, true to form, made us late. Mike didn't fuss the way he used to. He just let me be.
Somewhere along the way down to Georgia, I realized I translate into "someone else" when Mike and I get away from the household. I'm very intense at the house and don't always know when to delay things and rest. I had consciously given the children individually over to the care of the Lord. I was at peace that I was in the right place at the right time.
A few miles further, I was comforted in knowing that as the children age out of the home, Mike and I will have a hopeful future because we have things to talk and laugh and tease about.
We playfully changed clothes behind a gas station and made it to the viewing that evening, after which we went with his parents to Peachtree City for exceptional Mexican food at a place we've been to many times and where I remember Megan at the tender age of 4 putting her hands over her ears and telling us to stop fighting.
For me, the funeral was much like any other until Mike got up to speak. He had prepared a list of memories of how Aunt Beverly handled his behavior when he was young. But when he appealed to the audience to settle any doubts about the Lord, it was surreal. I don't know if I'll ever get used to hearing him proclaim the Faith.
Although the family has lost 200 pounds and 50 have been his, Mike still likes to eat like a king, just not so often. He had his mind set on The Varsity across from the Georgia Tech campus. He convinced his parents to go (even though she had prepared a roast the prior day), so we "double dated." It's hard at a place like that, but I managed not to overeat there or anywhere else. And that matters because moderation affects mood and mood affects attitude and attitude affects witness. And we got to witness to several people on this trip, especially to a young man at an electronics store who couldn't get over how Mike and I were carrying on with each other. And just before we made it home, Mike introduced me to the Muslim owner of a gas station he frequents. He told me to go get a drink on him because Mike was his best friend. Wow, talk about influencing your circle.
And anyway, if Mike wants to eat like a king, then that's between God and him. My position is to treat him with enough dignity and kindness that he feels like a king. So, Sunday morning while his parents were gone and he mentioned a mutual shower, I shouldn't have immediately cut him short. I always say something like, "I'm not a 20 year old anymore." To that he said, "Neither am I." Had me on that one.
I retain in my mind a ready list of defects. The most obvious ones are the scars of carrying children, of whom I nursed all seven. Eventually elasticity is lost and things aren't as perky as they used to be. My body is still prone to breakouts and has hair in such odd places that I don't have time left to pluck my eyebrows. But when he said, "If you're all I see ...," he had me again, so how can I not honor his commitment to look away from other women?
Something I held onto from our last out of state "encounter" was that he said later in an email, "You 'felt' different." It was regarding fitness, yes, but also newfound bold illustriousness. We women may focus more on our looks than men intend for us to; because when it comes down to it, close contact does not allow the kind of viewing accessibility we're always worried about. It really is about how it "feels." And if we're mentally or physically "checked out," it's obvious. But if there are true physical ailments/conditions (which ought to be temporary or treatable), of which I've had 3 in the last month alone, then we can give ourselves a little leeway, not that in the meantime there aren't other possibilities with which we can satisfy them. Because leaving our men "under pressure" is never wise. I've recorded unforeseen instances when I believe Mike was able to keep composure with someone because of the "release" of the marriage bed or truck or wherever opportunity appropriates.
Of all things this morning as I lie waking up after he went to work, I had an image, a sanctified one, a gift to me ...because of my skewed past and circuitry. I've been trying to associate the church as the bride of Christ. I used to be an artist, back when I took the time. This morning, I "saw" the transparent rendering of a wife atop her husband "receiving" the seed that brings the fruit she would carry, as her breasts fill with the sustenance of life. Of course, that's a rush depiction, but the "multiplication" that so many of us choose to forego enlightens and makes pure the entire process. Society has it backwards, becoming damaged by taking it before its time or by our own means.
No, we're not going to create a child every time and there comes a time when we can't, but I still believe it's the crux of the matter, a holy image that Satan would tempt our thinking into discerning as pornographic, somehow shameful and distasteful, lending to a vicious cycle of leaving our husbands unfed and brought into the real world of pornography, whether it be soft or hard.
Somehow, with all this insight I succeeded in "dropping the ball" when we got back in town. And I began to question Mike's answers. I heard my voice rising but didn't stop it. Eventually, he reminded me the car doors were open. When I went out to close them, I hardly checked for cats as I normally would. I closed one sliding door and went around to close the other. But when I did, it bounced back. I thought some of our belongings we left for the night were in the way, so I retried.
Miranda's "Kitton" fell out on the ground unconscious. There in the dark, I grabbed her up and ran into the house crying over and over how sorry I was. Miranda had to get out of the bath. She checked the eyes and let the head fall. She cried herself to sleep that night ...because I didn't have the presence of mind to be cautious.
Am I reading too much into it? I am certain that I am not. God knows His willful daughter. I knew instantaneously that it was the repercussion of returning to my sin. God is patient beyond explanation, but there comes a time when we have to decide not to turn back to it. I took Kitton outside as she coughed blood into my hands, her heart beating so quickly. Oddly my prayer was in thanks for how swift God was with my discipline and how bitterly sorry I was that innocent blood was shed. I've had similar instances that permanently changed the course of my obedience to my Lord.
Mike came out and did what falls on a man to do and ended the suffering. Kitton wasn't the average cat, not only in her beauty but in her affection. Because I knew better, a price was paid. And when we have family, the results always affect them.
Accidents happen but so do revelations, and I was secure in the meaning of the events before I got up the next morning to start where I'd left off reading, Hebrews 12. "And ye have forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as children, My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chaseneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?" I know so many people who would've cursed the moment. "Damn it, why did this happen!?"
I knew why this happened, so there was no sense in cursing it away. I had just read before we left for Georgia, "For when for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God; and are become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat. For every one that useth milk is unskilful in the word of righteousness; for he is a babe. But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age, even those who by reason of use have their senses excercised to discern both good and evil," Hebrews 5: 12-14.
First of all, I don't have any desire to become what Lot's wife did. Second of all, the first principle of a wife is to "reverence her husband" and of wives to "submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be subject to their own husbands in every thing." I, as does my friend, find the word "own" interesting, as though we are not to be subject to other men. Ironically, I believe that's what gives me jurisdiction to take dominion of my home the hours of the day when my husband's away, and I am directly subject to no one, in the physical sense. I think that's a pretty grand post to have!
I also think it's an honor that we can make or break what people think about our husbands upon meeting their wives. We don't have to be knock-outs; we just have to be the best we can be inside and out.
Right now, I've got to recapture the best I can be. She's still reeling from the weekend, the good and the bad. The good is she's never gotten to see as many relatives in a single visit before. To top that off, so many of them sent gifts home with her. Her mother gave HER a Mother's Day necklace and presented her an early birthday gift, a ceramic covered cast iron dutch oven. Her mother-in-law placed in her care a handmade quilt and pillowcase for DJ's bed. It will be by far the best of his meager possessions. Her brother's wife gave her bags of clothes, many with tags still on them, for Mady Z this summer. And the kids are fully funded for camp this summer. This all is after 3 different people have tried to give them cars in the last month.
Melody is still on cloud nine after attending the military ball at her brother's school. She was treated like royalty from the time Miranda took her to meet her ride to Virginia, in a Range Rover no less. The mother who escorted Melody and the two other girls had rented a historic home on the river near the school. They were free to leisurely ready themselves.
Of course, Sloan was Michael's date and looked the part. She graciously loaned Melody one of her dresses. They both were stunning and modest in one. All the more respect is due people who have it and could flaunt it but don't. Melody's date, Drake Davis, is one of Michael's friends whose family has done, let's say, exceptionally well financially. He is also ranked nationally in athletics. Neither of them knew the other could dance.
The next morning Sloan messaged me that people were asking who "that couple" was who could really dance. Michael had warned Drake to keep it "PG." I had admonished Melody to be a "light." Because it's never about the event but the participants. It's marvelous when people are skilled enough to perform, dancing at a distance or keeping comedy clean. I'm told they absolutely danced the night away. She says he was the consummate gentleman. And she showed him what it's like to spend an evening with a lady, amidst girls who hardly knew to do anything more than grind.
Yesterday, as the washing machine washed and the chicken simmered in my new pot, I spent the afternoon emailing state representatives because today they are finally considering the bill to include home schoolers in public junior and high school sports. Today, reality sets back in. Melody's at Driver's Ed. Mike's on the way to New York. Miranda ran to get feed. Megan gave blood last night and is back at it at work today. McKala's taking Macklynn to his game. She's doing well considering she tagged, wormed, and castrated calves all day with Dr. Sarah yesterday then fished into the night. Duke called to say her appointment was moved up from August to May.
The house is upside down. So, it's time for me to strap back in and get some stuff done. There's more than one person should ever consider doing: paperwork, cleaning, organizing, repairing. All I can do is start and not forget that the tasks are not more important than the people. And since we ladies have chosen to "stay," then we need to "stay well," as in, "whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men." And as Paul said to Archippus, "Take heed to the ministry which thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfill it."
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