Living on love.
That’s what my husband said we’re doing yesterday and I have to agree. Maybe it’s a corny sentiment, but it’s pretty accurate in our case.
Since he got home, I have embraced, savored and enjoyed our family time. And I haven’t wanted to do anything else.
If you’ve known me for a while, this is a little, ok, really, unusual. I’m a “doer.” I like to “go get ‘em” and multi-tasking and juggling numerous projects is my lifestyle, er, work style. So for me to simply be content to sit on the couch reading a book cuddling with my little boy while he watches an episode of one his many favorite Disney shows, or sitting on the floor with my husband counting change saved up for the last year for our upcoming vacation, well, it’s a little unusual. A lot slower paced. And I really like it.
Yet that doesn’t stop me from feeling slightly guilty, feeling like I’m ignoring other responsibilities like my Wives of Faith ladies, or my writing, or my neighbors and family and friends. I confess, I haven’t answered the phone much. I have checked email but not really replied a whole lot. So if you’ve tried contacting me, don’t worry. I haven’t fallen off the earth. I have just enjoyed being with my family on a little island I’m calling Home.
I think this all stems in part from the way things were before this deployment. Before my husband took off for the other side of the world and took on the role of war hero along with the hundreds of thousands of others who have left their families to serve the greater good. Before, when he was “just” a marketing director at a local radio station, and we were paying bills and hanging out with friends and wishing for what we didn’t have and trying to appreciate what we did but not always being very successful at that. Following life one day at a time. I confess I often saw our family time as an interruption to my other goals, my other passions, my other pursuits. I’ve always wanted to make a difference for God. To turn the world upside down for Him. But in my dogged determination to run a ministry marathon, keeping up with the other ministry marathoners, little things like my husband walking over and calling for a thirty-second hug would actually get on my nerves. I saw it as slowing me down. How wrong I was.
My initial desire for “family time” lasted all of about one week. Cliff came home, we enjoyed those first days as a second honeymoon of sorts and when I saw that he really hasn’t changed a whole lot, that he’s still the same loveable laid-back easygoing guy who left me at the beginning of this year, I convinced myself we could go ahead and get back to “normal.” Normal meaning I would get back on the mouse wheel, throw myself back into the office, start making plans and checking off to do lists.
So that plan lasted exactly one day, and then our son broke his arm and all bets were off on “normalcy” returning to the Horn household anytime soon. And as much as I hate that my little boy has had to go through the pain of a broken arm, the family time we’ve had because of it has been some of the best we’ve had as a family. We’ve laughed and joked and talked and cuddled and played with no schedule, no distractions and I see what we would have missed if things had gone my way.
Of course, eventually, we have to come back to earth. After all, bills do have to be paid. After our trip to Orlando to see Shamu and Mickey, my husband will go back to work, Caleb will go back to school with the addition of a bright neon-orange cast on his arm, and I will resume all of the things I’m involved in with hopefully a different sense of self, sense of family, sense of balance and priority, sense of letting God lead and making every effort to stay behind Him instead of running out ahead as I’m so often prone to doing.
And yet, I hope we don’t stop the living on love part. Because, when it comes down to it, love is the basis of our entire existence. It’s what keeps us going and what drives us forward. It’s what enabled our Savior to lay down His life for us all. It’s the foundation of everything we do and when there are cracks within that foundation, whether in our spiritual life, our family life, or other relationships, that’s when the entire building can start crumbling. I’ll admit my foundation isn’t perfect. I’ve allowed some cracks to form over the last few years. But thank goodness remodeling and renovating is always possible.
How thankful I am for love. Love of a wonderful husband, love of a wonderful son, love of a wonderful Savior who doesn’t give up.