So when Joey and I sat down today at Cheddars today, Sunday, August 27 - just the two of us, I felt like we had forgotten something. Joey ordered our drinks, our salads and the entree we would split. It's a small gesture, him ordering for me, but one that I love. It isn't often that I give up complete control and just let him take care of me. By the time our salads arrived, we were deep into our "what do we have this week" conversation. Soon, the organic measure of us halted me.
I looked at my husband and said, "This is the most foreign feeling in the world... to be here without our children on a Sunday after worship - but being with you is still the most natural thing in the world."
Of course, he answered with something sarcastic and narcissistic - but that is just the love language he uses and the one that wraps me up and holds me close.
I never write the date of the 27th of any month without pause - the shadow of our daughter's death is a constant companion. Since I know now that the worst can happen, I have to guard my heart from fear. However, I am grateful for a husband who has pursued my heart for 28 years, who has cared for me, who has not flinched once at my independence, and who has flexed his own strength when mine has failed. I am grateful that even when we feel exiled from the life we thought we would have, we are at home, always, with each other.
This like the perfection of the solar eclipse, like the miracle of conceiving a child, like the order of the seasons exemplifies the depth of refuge our God is and where we find him when we look.