Half-gone.

I dropped my wife off at the airport yesterday. She flew a few states over to be with her sister and brother-in-law, who just had their firstborn. She’s going to be gone for two weeks.

I cried when I drove away from the airport. If that costs me my man-card, then cash it in, buddy. I’ll surrender it willingly. I love my wife dearly. I missed her instantly. And I wiped away tears for a few minutes as I drove down the highway.

I am often tempted to worry; it’s a besetting sin that I battle regularly. As I drove home, I felt the stabbing fear that something might happen to my beloved, and I wouldn’t be there for her. It took a few minutes of prayer to relax, as I released her to the watchful eye of my Father (as if I really could take care of her better than He already does!).

It’s only going to be two weeks, and I know God will use that time to pull me aside and remind me that He is my true comfort and strength. As amazing as my wife is, she is not my God and Savior. I need this time apart to dwell in that truth. Although I have come to rightly rely on her, she is not my soul’s hope.

My head knows this is true. My heart still aches a bit. I felt all-too-suddenly why the Scriptures talk about husband and wife being one flesh, because yesterday half of my heart got on a plane and flew away.

[Regular content returns Monday. Y’all have a good weekend.]

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