It's 7:30 on a Sunday morning and I'm listening to a storm rage outside. Peter Pan is on in the background, keeping my children quiet as long as possible in the (desperate) hope of not waking up Lindsey and Jared, who have been so kind as to open their home to us in our current state of homelessness. (I've never had anyone insist we move in with them before - it makes a girl feel loved.) It has been almost eleven weeks since Jon moved to Southern California to start school.
This was never part of the plan, this being apart for so long. Or I should say it was never part of OUR plan. Heavenly Father was obviously working off of a different schematic. Which I am sure is for a greater purpose and our benefit in the long run, although I can't see that far ahead now. Apart we have been, Jon reverting to a bachelor's life (if you can revert to something you never lived before) and I to that of a single mother. It has been a challenge to say the least, and I find myself exhausted and emotional more often than I like to admit. Jon has been eating his weight in Top Ramen and Clif bars. He's also been busy finishing his first quarter and working 14 hour days training to manage a Panda Express.
I miss him, the kids miss him. But we rely on each other more, and at the end of the day I am not alone. Jon doesn't get to have that right now. The freedom was fun for him at first, but what we both want more than anything now is to be a family again. It is easy to see why the family structure is so important when yours is slightly fractured. Luckily for me, I have been blessed with amazing family and friends who alternately listen to me whine and feed me and my kids when I just don't have it in me.
It seems as though a place to live might be on the horizon, and I am doing my best to stay hopeful that it will all come together. We are ready to be complete again, and to show our kids all that Southern California has to offer. (Ok, maybe not all...just the good things please.) Hopefully we will be together by Christmas. But if not, we will be ok. If nothing else this experience has taught me to be flexible. Things may not be the way they've always been for the holidays this year, but there are other years. We are working the long game here, not the short.
I'll leave you with a quote, which isn't exact and I'm giving no credit for since I am not sure who said it first. I've heard it for years, most recently from Lindsey who heard it in "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel."
- Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end. -
Your heart belongs to me, or at least that's what you've said time and time again. And so, when you turned it over to the surgeons today, it felt like a part of me was pulled away. All day I sat in different spaces with the same feeling, willing myself to be distracted by conversation while secretly my mind struggled to remind me to breathe. I caught tears at the back of my eyes and sobs in my throat, tucking them away from the strangers around me.
I was patient through the hours, feeding on each report the nurse brought me but never feeling full, knowing I'd be hungry until I could feast my eyes on you again. As the clock ticked on I became restless, pacing the hallway at the hour I knew you should be done. I caught sight of your head as they wheeled you into the ICU and my breath quickened and I was revived.
The surgeon came to talk of aortas and grafts, walk me through the mending of the heart I own, drawing pictures with hands that performed amazing feats today, hands that have given you more of a life than you had this morning.
In the ICU my own inferior hands found your skin, touched you so that my mind could believe what my eyes were seeing - the man I love, safe and sound.
Miracles were wrought for you today, miracles of God and science. Care for this heart that you are housing for me as it heals that I may not have to watch it wheeled away from me again.