So this morning I got up, sent the boys off to basketball camp and headed out the door for my walk/jog - which is becoming more jog than walk each and every day. I love it. I'm becoming addicted to it. (Have I mentioned how delightful it is to have kids old enough to leave at home watching cartoons while I go? Well, it is. Even if it took 13 years.)
The fresh air, the sun beating down, the lack of little people calling my name, the tunes on my i-pod. . . I seriously thought - you know what? This has been OK. We've made it so far, it hasn't been too bad and the Coach will be home before we know it! (must have been those exercise released endorphins or something.)
Except for the fact that. . . I feel like half of my body has been ripped off and taken away. To the jungles of Brazil.
Never was it more evident that I am, indeed, missing my better half, than tonight when we sat down to eat dinner in the dining room (maybe for the third time in two weeks?) and I noticed a dark stain on the ceiling. A BIG dark stain. A big dark water stain. Still wet. On the ceiling.
So there obviously wasn't anything to do about it at 6:00 pm on a Tuesday night. Except panic and call my Daddy, who was in route from vacation in Florida (yes, I've been without husband AND parents!).
They came straight from the airport, as good parents do, and Dad checked it out while Mom did the dinner dishes (told you they were the best.)
No conclusion, but the water stain is huge and the roofer will be hearing from me in the morning. There is a small spot in another room, as well.
I might have responded more calmly if I hadn't just single-handedly weed-eated around all 555 trees on the entire 1 acre yard that surrounds our home. Alright. . . 554 trees. And by the way. . . WHY are those weed-eaters so heavy? No problem for the Coach because he's, well, STRONG. REALLY strong. He's done such a good job training my boys to do all of the mowing for me. But the trimming is strictly the Coach's job. Fortunately it will grow a bit before Saturday and hopefully won't look so bad that he will notice what a pitiful job I did. I tell you what. . . never doing THAT, again!
Anyway, I guess we are still OK. Still hanging in there. Looking forward to dinner with my b-i-l, s-i-l and four adorable nieces and nephews tomorrow night. Looking forward to another dinner with another s-i-l and fun nephews and a niece on Thursday (see? Having a big family comes in handy!). In the meantime the boys will finish the week at basketball camp, I'll get a few more projects done, take lots of Advil for my sore arms and on Saturday? Lord willing and the creek don't rise. . . my men will be home.
I'm so grateful that I know that God has us in His hands. His providence is guiding all that touches us. (Just finishing up "Sweet and Bitter Providence" by Piper and I highly recommend it.) I need to be reminded that He is in control - especially when things go wrong and the Coach isn't here to help. God is. I trust His plan (whether I know what it is or not) and I trust HIM.
(p.s. if you run into the Coach in the Amazon jungle please don't tell him about the ceiling. wouldn't want him to worry.)