Monday, August 3, 2015

On flying solo

Up until yesterday morning, my fears about Joe leaving the country for a month had all been very selfish.

What if I have a panic attack and he's not there to calm me down?

What if I have an allergic reaction when no one is around?

What if I have to drive anywhere farther than an hour away (because he always does the long drives)?

What if I actually don't miss him every single day -- will that make me a terrible wife?

What if I, what if I, what if I...

And then as we sat in church during the second set of worship, Joe put his arm around me and squeezed harder than usual, resting his head on my head.  I turned to look at him and saw tears in his eyes, and I asked him, "What's wrong?" 

"I'm really scared," he said.

And suddenly I saw this whole situation from his eyes:

A 16-hour flight...

An 11-hour time difference...
A place where he may or may not be safe to express his religious beliefs...

Where he doesn't speak their language...

Where it's hot as balls (sorry for the imagery, but seriously)...

And where he will know NO ONE. 

Oh hey, Tabitha...this might actually be harder on Joe than it will be on you.  Get over yourself.

Maybe being apart for a month will help me to realign my focus in our marriage, because the selfish tendencies have wormed their way in pretty deep.  I would like Joe to come home to a wife who didn't just kill time for four weeks, but who prayed for him every day, cleaned the house up a little better than usual, and missed him so badly that she can't wait to jump his bones the second he walks through the door.

Lord, help me become that wife.  
Don't let me waste these next few weeks wallowing in my selfish self-pity.  
Help me to see Joe the way you do, and to learn to love him better during this time apart. Less of me, more of you.