Writing Day

This is my Writing Day. For years I have tried to eliminate anything but writing from this day, at least from 9-5. If I went to Zumba, as I did this morning, I’d start earlier so I’d get in my full day of writing. Steve would be in classes at NKU and I’d apply myself diligently.

Now Steve is retired. He has great intentions of leaving me alone on my Writing Day, but things come up—small things, certainly, but concentration-interrupters. They are always prefaced by “I hate to bother you on your writing day…,” which is very sweet.

This morning, one of them was to invite me to go with him to lunch on the river at a nearby marina, going, of course, in the convertible. It’s a beautiful day, so I measured my priorities and decided husband should come before writing, especially since my upcoming deadlines are in July, August, and October.

Turns out the marina is closed on Monday and Tuesday, so we picked up sandwiches and drinks at Subway and took them to the park by the river. Delightful!

I could tell he thought I was rushing it a bit to leave only 15 minutes after we’d finished eating, but he said nothing. Then, since our icemaker is non-functioning AGAIN (another sad story), we needed to buy ice en route home, so we went to our little “old Kroger,” as opposed to the super-duper Kroger Marketplace. He said he needed tomato juice and bottled water, so he got that and I got the ice and a couple of things. We agreed we would each check out and meet at the car.

I waited almost ten minutes for him to emerge from the store, and meanwhile I began to fume. That only lasted a few seconds, for I figured out long ago how to spend random moments such as this. I began praying again for some in special challenges right now—our friend who is trying to keep three jobs in order to pay her bills, our friends whose loved ones died and they are deeply grieving, a marriage that is in danger because the husband has fallen back to some of his past destructive habits. Those kinds of prayers can keep me occupied for a long time!

When Steve finally emerged, I chose to say nothing about the long wait. I’d figured he’d thought of dozens of other items, but evidently not.

Often even when he has a good excuse for something, he won’t say so because he disdains people who always make excuses. Fortunately, this time he said immediately, “Well, you might know the two things that would slow me down at this store—one, a person.” He grinned.

Surprised, I named a talkative friend of ours and, sure enough, that’s who he had run into. She had fallen playing tennis and was bruised and battered all over, even to a broken rib. A sad story that needed listening to. (And after all, he is the listening guru!)

Then there was some difficulty at the checkout, and someone’s groceries had to be unbagged and refigured before he could get through the line.

So he had good reasons, and I was sorry to hear of my friend’s misfortune. I got some perspective on my wait, and gained appreciation for my good health and good husband. And since I hadn’t written a blog post lately, I now had a plan for when I finally arrived at home. Waiting on the Lord (Psalm 27:14)is always in order, and sometimes waiting on our spouses works that way, too.