Baggage claims, evil eyes, and a gracious touch

It’s the Saturday afternoon of a wonderfully delightful week. A week that was full of lingering days by a hotel pool, frequent coffee shop runs, nice dinners, and two wonderful nights spent with dear old friends at their homes catching up on the last five years of life. It’s truly been a great week.

Like one long wonderful date with my wife, my wife that I love so very much.

But we’re both tired, ready for some form of normal life, and the reality of returning to work tomorrow and that in just a couple of short hours a plane will move us from a soul warming ocean breeze of 83 degrees to a bone chilling 18 has us both in a… well, what’s the best word… ahhhh, well we’re both edgy. Yeah, edgy is a good word.

We’re still having fun together, loving simply being on an adventure together, yet as I just saw I’m able to go from “hey-life’s-good-and-I-love-you-so-much” to “I-just-gave-you-mean-set-of-eyes-that-communicate-I’m-one-hateful-son-of-a-gun” in about .23 seconds.

It happened like this, we’re checking bags, she wanted it one way, I wanted it another. I didn’t back down, she didn’t back down. I wanted to be in control, she wanted to be in control and poof a perfect storm happened that turned this simple and silly act of checking bags into world war III. Now, if you’re not married you’re probably asking “what’s his problem, it’s just checking bags, just let her do it her way” and if you’re married you’re reading this and nodding your head saying “heck yeah, I totally know that moment, but mine was over the milk, or the dog, or who would put the instant biscuits in the fridge.”

I love my wife, I really really do, but as we approach our fifth anniversary I’m reminded that marriage is a daily commitment, a commitment that is lived out at the baggage counter, the dog bowl, next to the sink full of dirty dishes. A commitment that I took and that I vowed to forever die to myself, to put my wife first, to be willing to see the best for us over myself, and to seek love over control and self.

So God, thank you for the baggage counter moments that remind us of the commitment of marriage. Thank you that my wife has the gentlest touch that so graciously reminds me I’m not living and loving as I desire to, as she deserves, or that you created me for. Thank you that marriage is a wild adventure of two worlds crashing into one. And thank you that it is Pearl and I against life and not against each other.

May grace win, may love shine through, and may we each have baggage claim moments that remind us to live beyond the ruts of our existence.

Pearl, I love you and thank you for your graciousness. Well, it’ s now almost time to board. Let’s grab something to eat and then fly north to our frozen home in Pa.