Humble Pie

Last week Devin was gone from Monday through Thursday, touring the wheat fields of Kansas to help with the projected yield for this year's crop.  The girls and I missed him dearly.  It was the first time I had been alone in... a long, long time. (Usually when he goes somewhere I make my mom come and stay with me, but we are much too far away now for me to indulge in that kind of silliness.)

He is out of town again, this time touring Nebraska, and he won't be home until tomorrow night.   A few days ago (read: before he had even left) I was walking around with hot, bitter grumblings coming out of my mouth.  I was dreading him being gone, leaving me alone, and I was felt that if I complained, well mine was a "righteous" murmuring, and I was entitled to it, because after all, look at what I was being forced to deal with! Alone! By myself! Here! Sometimes, at night, it gets dark!!  Can you believe it?

Then, as I was really getting into the groove of my grumblings, I remembered the words of a woman I greatly respect, as she wrote about what it is like to be married to the bishop, and the time that it takes away from their family.  I thought, well, it is nice that Devin is around most of the time, that he helps me put the girls to bed every night, makes dinner 3 or 4 nights a week, I really can't complain about that.

I felt myself being served a cold dish of hot, crumbly, humble pie.

Then I thought of my friends who are married to doctors whose husbands work in hospitals, never knowing what the next month's busy, erratic schedule will be, and hesitant to make plans because who knows when the man will be around?

I could see a spoonful of "Whodoyouthinkyouare" flavored ice cream coming down on the side.

Then I thought of all the women whose husbands are in the military.  And the women whose husbands have passed away.  Or left them.  The women who are raising their children alone, for whatever reason, and doing the best they can.  The women who don't have husbands, or kids, and fight loneliness every night.

And the "getoveryourself" cream, whipped up real smooth, was put on top of my little (big?) piece of pie.

So, to all those women, I would like to offer a sincere apology.  I am heartily ashamed that I thought I had something to complain about.  I salute you, and I respect you. I fall to pieces after just a few days of doing this on my own, and can't imagine the strength it takes to do it every day.  I'd like to take a page out of your book, because I know it's called "Heckuva Woman."

I'm pretty sure my  book is called, "I'm Scared of the Dark when My Husband is Gone." and that's a lame story.

I'm going to use the opportunity of him being gone to try and focus on how lucky I am that I have a husband that is the kind of man that I miss when he's not here.  That he is the kind of daddy that Hallie wants home so badly she asks me every ten minutes where he is.

And maybe that will help when he leaves again next week.