Date Knight

I met my husband when I was 19.  We’ve been together 30 years, married 25.  We were married 10 years before having our first son.  Our second son came along 4 years later.  So, when he suggested we go on a “date” last week, it should’ve been no big deal, right?  Wrong!  We haven’t been alone together on a date in 15 years (the age of our oldest son).  We both LOVE being parents and our identities are firmly grounded in these now familiar and very comfortable roles . . . and we wouldn’t have it any other way.  But . . . it sounded like a nice idea to both of us.  Not being sure what we should do at this age, (49 and 50) we decided dinner was a good start and then we would head over to a charity art auction.

All week I thought about our date; what I would wear, what we would talk about, what it would feel like to be without the boys.  And, I worried . . . was our will up to date?  Would our good friends the Gibsons still want to raise our sons if something happened to us, would my husband still find me interesting as “just” a woman (not Mom)?  Okay, I’m a worrier.  Friday night I was the most anxious – good and bad anxiety.  I did the only thing I know to do when I’m stressed, I prayed.  I gave my fears and worries to God.  I acknowledged my boys were His and that my marriage was His as well and asked him to guide our family’s night apart.

On Saturday night after we had dropped off the boys with our friends, we went home to get ready.  I dressed in another room so I could surprise Don with my outfit.  When we were ready to leave, I walked out of the bedroom and presented myself to him, “How do I look?” I asked.  His face lit up and a smile spread across his face, “Maybe we should just stay home!” he laughed.  “You look so beautiful – you still amaze me.”  He walked over and kissed me, “Wow!  I’m so lucky to have you as my wife.”  I should tell you how amazing Don looked too . . . he had bought a white sport coat and was wearing a black collared shirt under that.  His white goatee and hair perfectly contrasted against the black and were highlighted by the white; incredibly handsome and put together just for me.  It’s funny, but as I’ve gotten older, I find white hair on men to be incredibly sexy.

As we drove to dinner, we laughed a lot and listened to some of our favorite music (loud).  We sat in the lounge of the restaurant before dinner and to my amazement, I found that Don was nervous.  It was like our first date.  He was charming and composed, but blushed when I looked at him.  He was careful and slow to put his arm around the back of my chair.  I laughed lightly and leaned in close, “I’m already yours” I whispered.  He laughed too, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous – it’s pathetic.  But you’re so beautiful . . . sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you’re mine.”

At the charity event, our evening continued to be fun and I flirted with him.  I would wander away from him and then some handsome man would catch my eye from across the room . . . it was always him.  He would smile and I would give him the smile I reserve for only him. 

After we picked up our boys and they were asleep in their rooms, our night continued in the privacy and sanctity of our own room.  We celebrated our marriage and I was grateful to a God who created such a beautiful expression of love. 

I’ve been thinking about our date.  The smiles, the glances, the familiar mixed with the unfamiliar.  I’m no longer worried about finding our identity as a couple once the boys are no longer at home.  We will always find our way to one another; we are bound by and joined together by something so much more than physical; something greater than both of us . . . our God, and He promises to never let us go.

Take Heart

My youngest son is very sensitive.  He understands the “passing of time” and is very much in love with the life we live.  His depth often amazes me; he weeps when he takes communion at church and sometimes even during a sermon that touches his heart.  He is very affectionate with me and never misses an opportunity to tell me he loves me or that he thinks I’m pretty.  He laughs at all his Dad’s jokes and always tells him how funny he is.  And, he adores his older brother.  So much so, that recently he bought all the same color t-shirts so they can “match.” 

Yesterday, we had the opportunity to spend time with several “new” friends my oldest son has recently made.  They’re all in their teens and even though my youngest son is 4 years younger than most of them, they did their best to include him in their games.  However, there was a moment (I felt it too) when we realized that our older son was sort of “moving on” into an area of his life that we would be a smaller part of.  It was beautifully sad.  When all the kids except my youngest son had come downstairs for dessert, I went up to check on him.  He was sitting alone and I could tell he was upset.  As we talked, he said he didn’t know exactly what the problem was, but he felt sad like something was lost.  He cried and I hugged him and did my best to comfort him, but I felt like crying too.  I knew exactly what he meant and how he felt.

It’s the passing of a season; a time of growing and stretching for our family and although it’s all good and we’re happy to see our oldest make new friends and move into new circles, we are also painfully aware of the loss of what we have now.  We are aware that this time together is precious and rare.  

Maybe these glimpses of seeming perfection in our lives are glimpses of something eternal; the way life was meant to be experienced before the fall of mankind.  Maybe the awareness of the passing of them and the sadness it brings is our subconscious knowledge of how things should be.  It’s painful to live so fully; to be so thoroughly alive that it makes us raw and breaks our hearts.  But the alternative is unfathomable; to shut down and turn off our emotions; to numb ourselves so we can avoid the pain.  That is surely death.

So, this incident (from which my youngest son quickly recovered) has left me wrestling with a big question:

“What’s next”  . . .  for us as a family; for me as a Mom; for me as a woman?  I know God has the answers for me and as I struggle with my desires for how I’d like things to be, He is reminding me that my desire is good, but that I need to allow Him to satisfy it.

“You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing” (Psalm 145:16)

“Praise the Lord, O my soul . . . who satisfies your desires with good things . . . “ (Psalm 103:5)