Today my husband preached a funeral. It was his second funeral to preach (third if you count the grave-side service he led last month). It’s kind of an odd thing to think about for me. My husband is twenty-four years old (freshly, if you remember), and here he’s preached two (or three) funerals… or maybe it is an odd thing to think that we have only been here since January and he has already preached one funeral (or two). Anyway, I’m proud of him and proud to be his wife. There are so many blessings I have encountered as a preacher’s wife that I never thought about when I first realized that was exactly what I was to become.
I can’t exactly explain how proud I feel sitting there in the pew looking up at my handsome husband as he preaches God’s word to those around me. Nevermind the fact that I am left to deal with Benjamin alone (usually Benjamin is very well behaved in services – there are a few days when my concentration is mostly on keeping Benjamin occupied enough to be quiet), or the fact that I have nobody to hold hands with or loop arms with while I listen to the sermon (you know, besides Benjamin). But to hear my husband up there… preaching truth… I just swell with pride. And when people come up and compliment me on my husband’s sermons… I never thought what kind of effect that would have on me. Let me give you a little insight though. When someone tells me this, I usually beam from ear to ear and thank them earnestly. It’s as if someone has just complimented me, and to be truthful they have because Carl and I are one flesh, after all, are we not?
Anyway, I didn’t intend to go down that rabbit trail, but there I went and here we are, back around. I was going to talk about the rest of our day, but really it was just traveling back and forth and eating and Benjamin and I hanging out while Carl went out to the Cattle Ranch for the monthly Bible study there. I hated putting Benjamin down for bed by myself, mostly because Carl is so much better at going about it for some reason. He just has a knack. Maybe it’s because Benjamin always asks me for “More tisses” no matter how many kisses I have already given him… how mean I feel when I tell him no more for tonight! But if I didn’t, I’d be in there till morning giving him those sweet night-night kisses.
I digress.
Carl is now home. Somewhere in the house, anyway. I’m in my happy place, listening to my new favorite song of the moment (Owl City’s cover of Taylor Swift’s ‘Enchanted’… maybe it’s just the story behind it that has me so ‘wonderstruck’.) and just blogging as things come to me. The streetlight outside is shining on the power lines outside the window and the way the leaves are rustling makes it look like there are twinkle lights out there.
It’s pretty.
Anyway.
I love that dirty-faced kid.
And he loves Fireflies.
And I leave you with that, my dear friends, and a vow to have more fun, carefree, heartfelt blogs like this one because frankly it has been a joy to … unload. Not that I was burdened. But I enjoyed writing this.
