I haven’t written in forever and the lack of taking time to actively connect with truth has been wearing on me. I naively thought that I would have plenty of space to write while I was on vacation, as if I forgot that I wasn’t going off by myself on a spiritual retreat, I was actively connecting with family. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful to do so, but such is/was not a quiet time of contemplation.
Only the love is real.
The best part for me was noticing how well my husband and I dance through the rhythm of our marriage. No matter what comes at us – good or bad, upsetting or rejoicing, we support each other well. No condemnation. No ideas of what the other should or shouldn’t be doing, or should or shouldn’t have done, but loving support.
Last night, on the plane ride coming back, I stupidly decided that since we hadn’t eaten since our early lunch (and had had no breakfast), that I should grab something to eat between flights (Jay didn’t want anything) since we wouldn’t be getting home until ten or so New Mexico time which would be past midnight for the EST we’d been living by for the last eleven days. They longer really feed you on flights (one small package of honey-roasted peanuts), so food seemed like a wise choice. Knowing we had limited time, I opted for the express Thai place and picked at my Sesame and Kung Pao Chicken entrees as we weaved our way through the boarding line.
I ate till I was full, which means I ate about three-quarters of it, and almost immediately felt sick.
Here was the best part of the whole experience – my husband. Even though I ended up spending way too much time in the cramped cubicle that passes for a bathroom on the Boeing 737, and I was miserable, my husband made the experience comforting. Thankfully, I slept and even though it was what I call foxhole sleep – short intervals of dozing sandwiched between wakeful moments of surroundings-assessment – all the waking moments were of love. Him offering his shoulder and lap to lean my head upon. Me reaching over to touch his leg. All of them comforting moments that words can’t begin to capture in any way that does them justice.
During the middle of our vacation, there was an “incident” (family drama bullshit involving the son-in-law) that, were Jay less of a man, could have resulted in a rift between us. Instead it was just another opportunity to choose love. Rather than lamenting what should have happened, we found a way to enjoy the moment before us. We explored. We spent time alone together. We loved each other.
All of this is just to say that I am grateful for my husband. And while I may not have gotten lots of space to take time for myself, I did get space to take time with my husband, and those are precious, precious moments.
I’m back from vacation and now it’s time to get back to work, but I am grateful for the time spent embracing the love.
Namaste, my friends, Namaste.