Suprising winds.

I was surprised at how well the day went, surprised at the amount of energy I felt as I read Ethan his books before bedtime, surprised at the amount of patience I had with him while I brushed his tiny white teeth. The house was clean, the air was filled with the fresh grapefruit scent of my new candle, the dishes were done and put away. Wow, I thought, I might actually get some good time with Joey when he comes home--usually we mope around for about an hour with our eyelids half shut before we fall into bed, exhausted from the day. Then the phone rings and I let the answering machine get it because I am right in the middle of our last story:
"Hey babe...the guys, uh, want to go out for a beer. I'll be home as soon as I can. You can call me, or I will call you later."
OK.
Deep breath, and no big deal, right? After five years of marriage, these things, I know, come up, they happen, and we have to support each other and let each other go have a little fun without the other sometimes. No big deal.
I was surprised at how well I was taking this, how I really didn't feel any anger at all.
After Ethan was down, I called Joey back and he didn't answer, so I left him the sweetest wifey poo message saying no problem, I'll see him when he gets home.
Another deep breath.
I decided to do my prego yoga video, because stretching always feels so nice, and when Joey came home, wouldn't he be so proud of me for doing something good for myself, instead of just sitting on the couch waiting for him to walk through the door like some desperate housewife?
After about forty five minutes of my video I was bored out of my mind, so I turned it off.
Still no Joey, but no anger, no bitterness either--Wow, I thought, maybe I am actually growing in this wife thing.
I decided to get ready for bed because surely he'd come home before I was all ready for bed--but he didn't. So then I wrote in my new journal for another hour our so, thinking in the back of my mind the whole time, won't this be nice when he comes home? Me happy, in bed, writing?
Pretty as that picture would have been, I was getting sleepy, so I decided to just go to bed. I had a couple of fleeting worrisome thoughts--why hadn't he called back? But I pushed them out of my mind, reminding myself he was a man and I needed to trust him, and trust God that he was OK.
At one o'clock in the morning I woke up with a jerk and the realization that he still had yet to walk through our bedroom door, put his keys on our dresser, and go in the bathroom, which is usually when I fall asleep whenever he comes home late. I threw my arm over to his side of the bed and the sheets where cold and empty.
I sat up, awake as is if it were eleven o'clock in the morning, and grabbed the phone. No messages. I dialed his cell phone--he said to call him, right? Or that he would call me? And I listened to the dumb thing ring. ring. ring. And then his voice, Hey this is Joey. Leave a message and I'll call you back.
I hung up. I threw myself back onto the pillow, my mind alternating between cursing him and praying, trying to stay calm. My eyes darted from one side of the room to the other while my stomach turned over and over. Was he drunk? Dead? In some bar with boobs hanging out all over? You hate to think these things of your husband but, hello? What else do men do in the wee hours of the morning, after they started drinking at eight? Especially the type of men that Joey was with--these are not bible reading, wife loving, men. They are just men, regular men.
All the while the winds howled outside my bedroom, the lid of our green garbage can slamming itself into the house every couple of seconds.
The wind in our neighborhood is not normal wind. The wind in our neighborhood is Kansas tornado wind, wind that blows over fences and slams anything left outside into the side of your house. I have more than once been reminded of God's presence when the wind blows, reminded that not only does He give the sunshine, but He rides on the wings of the wind (Psalms). The wind always reminds me of His presence, his utter nearness in the middle of chaos.
Like I don't plan for the wind to suddenly out of nowhere blow our fence over, making life such a pain in the rear in terms of letting the dogs out to go pee, not to mention the labor and cost of fence mending (Want to get rich? Move here and learn to fix fences), I didn't plan for my husband not to come home last night. In fact, my entire day was dictated by the fact that he was coming home at around seven thirty. But God rides on the wings of the wind, dictating where and what it will hit, and He also dictates where and what our husbands will be doing after work. Even at two o'clock (because now it is TWO) in the morning.
I really did pray. God was nearer to me then I have felt Him in a long while. But I was still pissed as a bat locked in the trunk of a car. I had some great pity moments, filled with thoughts of my poor pregnant self, at home, alone, in bed, after a full day of taking care of HIS kid, and how I cleaned and laundered all his precious underwear just he way he likes it, and blah blah blah, while he's out doing God know's what, but in the end, I pleaded with God to please let me be a godly wife when he came home, whatever that looked or sounded like. Because I wanted to scream my head off and run my nails down his back. I wanted blood.
Finally right before THREE AM I called again. He answered, said he was in the driveway.
Well, I kept my rant short and sweet, said only things I really meant, and honestly believed God kept me from a multitude of sins.
Joey didn't say much, said he made the mistake of carpooling.
Oh, that he did. That. he. did.
And then he was snoring, and I really wanted to knee him in the nuts.
I was still so angry I could not sleep. At four, Ethan woke up and came in bed with us.
Do I need to say I didn't get any sleep?
Joey is gone now, and we really didn't talk much about anything. At one point this morning he came back into bed with me, after being really nice and taking care of Ethan and his breakfast so I wouldn't have to (oh, he owes me little nice things BIG TIME) and I rolled into him. My heart wasn't completely sure I was ready to be close to him, but something inside needed to feel his arms close around me.
I'm sorry, he said.
I was worried, I said.
And then we just laid there for a minute.