Day 140

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Day 140 - Because I'm a school teacher (High School Bible), I'm afforded summers off.  I used to pastor churches and only recently began teaching.  As I never had a big interest in ministering to teens but now love my job, I firmly believe in God's sovereignty and perfect timing.  He knew Leigh would die on March 6th, and He knew I'd need this summer to be home with the kids.  And for that I'm forever grateful to Him.

The summer is closing quickly.  Looking back I can see how it's played host to a number of "news" for me and the kids.  Some we've welcomed, others we're trying to change.  One "new" is my evening to morning routine. The kids will go down between 9:30 - 10:00 p.m.  And whether it's because they feel bad for me or because they're growing up, it's taking less and less time for them to get into bed and fall asleep.  After we scratch backs and pray, they're pretty much done for the night (on occasion Bailey will try to milk a few more minutes - "Dad, I think I saw something move in my room" "Bay, go to bed."  "Dad, can you turn the fan on?" "Bay, go to bed."  "Dad, chocolate milk?"  You get the routine).  They will sleep until 8:00 a.m. or so with Caden waking first, then Malia, then Bailey.  Then the craziness begins. 

My "new" routine is to try and get to bed before midnight.  Sometimes I have things to get done after the kids go down, other times I just can't sleep, other times I need to unwind.  I find myself getting up around 7 a.m., getting the coffee started, reading something from God's Word, reading a few chapters out of the latest book I've got out, and then watching the kids slowly file into the family room.

Compared to waking up, showering, getting dressed, rushing to work, etc., I'll gladly take what I've been given.  But yesterday morning as I was sitting in my chair, books open, I looked around and realized something that's been happening the entire summer but I didn't notice it until now.  Nothing terribly profound but it dawned on me that when the kids go to bed and until they wake up, unless I create some artificial noise (t.v., radio), my house will remain silent.  This morning that thought was accentuated even more so as the kids spent the night at grandmas.

I can remember all too many days when Leigh was alive when I would long for the house to be quiet. Kids, dogs, t.v., me and Leigh talking (and even sometimes fighting), dishwasher, washing machine.  And now for 10 hours each day if I don't turn anything on, I've got what so many of us dream of - quiet.  I'm not crazy enough to carry on conversations with myself or my dogs, so things are just quiet.  Not peace and quiet, just quiet.

Depending on a host of variables, the quietness can be good or it can be painful.  The quietness can help reset your day or it can confirm that something isn't right.  That someone is missing. I definitely need my rest from "kid noise."  All parents do.  But a rest from "adult noise?"  The "kids are down, let's have some adult talk," is what's missing in our house now.  Or "the kids are still sleeping, let's read the paper and talk over breakfast."  That's now gone.  I've missed that this week, and I'll miss that in the weeks to come. 

The more spiritual people will tell me I should relish the fact that I have alone time with the Lord and instead of complaining I should spend more time in prayer.  Talk to God.  Let Him fill the silence. Maybe you're right.  Maybe I should.  And I will say that my time with God has been sweet this summer.  He's shown me so many things in His Word.  I love my time with Him.  But I think God understands that there's something different when I talk with Him as compared to when I talked with Leigh Ann.  And I miss talking with Leigh Ann.  I miss hearing, "Good morning Sug."

Went to dinner and a movie with some good friends last night.  Driving home to an empty house and the feelings that accompany that are what makes this "new" life truly new.  Some things are going to be hard to get used to. 

Prayer Requests:
- Prayers for Caden.  The reality of not having a mom anymore is starting to hit him.

"Father, thank You that I don't have to be silent with You.  Thank You for always being there."