A deep longing – desire – stirs. I push it down. The clock’s ticking dictates how long I can linger over coffee, scripture and verse, writing, reading, praying and contemplation.
I realize with fresh desire how much I took for granted during the quiet and solitude of my stay-at-home-mom years. The house grew gloriously quiet while children were schooled and husband worked. Hours of quiet stretched out before me as I breathed in the fellowship of His presence, faithful animal companion curled at my feet, Bible, journal and pen in hand. It seems so much was accomplished in my quiet heart during those treasured, reflective days.
The flurry of words that pulls me toward the day at hand sounds like the message of a Disney film, “Just keep swimming…just keep swimming…” My husband’s deeply jarring cough adds urgency to the ticking clock and Disney tune – a reminder that I have the responsibility of working outside the home now.
Years have passed since his diagnoses and the decline in his health more obvious now than then. He recently surrendered some outside yard work to a local company with a “green thumb.” It is one of the things he loves to do – work in the yard, cultivate the earth, trim, edge, grow.
I push away the sorrow I feel when I consider the weight of his ongoing necessary surrenders.
The ticking, the tune, grow louder.
I love my job – training students to be counselors – but some days I long for silence to sit in and hours to linger long over coffee, scripture and journal. The day opens wide before me: MORNING – mentored research meeting with student; AFTERNOON – counseling sessions and student supervision; EVENING – teaching. I anticipate the now familiar nightly ritual of soup for dinner late (9 pm), a quick conversation with a husband who has spent the day alone, the news, some sit-ups, and falling into separate beds – another necessary surrender of his illness, nightly oxygen machine, and violent REM-induced thrashing – exiled from one another after 40 + years of sleeping together. Sometimes the necessary surrenders feel so harsh.
And yet…the gift of education, a career after 50…the provision for us through the work my hands have been given to do…is personal, miraculous, stunning. I know He sees me, hears me, answers me…and will always, always come for me.
I turn on the shower and the ticking fades, the Disney tune loses its grip on my thoughts, my heart rate slows and I breathe a thankful prayer for the goodness of His gentle, peace-filled presence – even in the midst of noise.
Christine Browning is a lover of story—including her own. She loves to hear and longs to respond well to others’ stories. A late bloomer in the field of education, it is her absolute delight to teach at Milligan College in East Tennessee. She also counsels women who have experienced trauma and abuse. Christine is the mother of three adult children, three incredible grandchildren and has been married for 42+ years to her delightfully playful husband, Tom.
nbsp
So lovely written, Christine. I could imagine myself sitting with you and feel the longing in your heart. My heart aches over the decline of your husband, the separate beds after years of sharing one together and the space that is lost for both of your lives. I love that God has provided for your lives through teaching you so love…💗MJ
Dear MJ, the kindness of your words is like a balm to my soul. Thank you for seeing that space that is lost to us … and for naming the joy He has multiplied in blessing me with the privilege of teaching. I am looking so forward to seeing you in September! With love, Christine
Dear MJ, your words are like a balm to my soul. Thank you for seeing that space that has been lost to us…and for naming the joy He has provided through the privilege of teaching. I look forward to seeing you in September! With love, Christine
Dear Christine, I’m sorry for your losses. Thank you for reminding us that it the simple things in life – sleeping with our mates, having time to read and write, etc that we miss when life’s journey changes. I have a feeling you are an awesome teacher and that your students are blessed to have you in their lives because you are real.
Dear Barbara, thank you for your kind expression of sorrow, and for the encouragement about my teaching. God has given many, many kindnesses to me through the work He has provided. Prayers for your life’s “little things” and places of goodness.
Dear Christine, thank you for writing of your losses and changes. I am grateful for your giftedness to teach and counsel and train. You gave me a lovely glimpse of your home, life, marriage and faith. Sometimes we “borrow” faith from another for a deeper awareness of Jesus. You did this for me this morning. Thank you. Hugs and blessings from my heart to yours.
Dear Becky, thank you for the blessing of your words “sometimes we borrow faith from another for a deeper awareness of Jesus.” My heart literally leapt with joy while reading them. Hugs and blessings back to you, Christine.
Your writing tugs at the fabric of my life and although my scenes are different your writing deeply touched my heart. Thank you for your words today.
Bethany, I know little of your “scenes” … only what you have beautifully written here … but I recognize the longing in the losses as well as the beauty of your heart of faith. Prayers for His presence with you in your “scenes” today. With love, Christine
I resonate with this as my gifts have different expressions in this season. My husband is in disability this year and I am stepping in more fully to my midwifery. Thank you for inviting us in to name the losses AND relish the gifts of new seasons.
✍🏽Joanna
Joanna, thank you for seeing the both/and of our losses. Prayers for you as you step more fully into your gifting during this “season.” Christine