Ain't No Sunshine When He's Gone

Tomorrow morning at dark thirty o'clock, my husband is getting on a plane and flying to Peru for two weeks. He is going with a group of people from our church to build buildings and relationships with people. It is a good thing.

But I am staying home. Without him.

And that is always hard.

I won't be alone because how can you be alone with a daughter, son-in-law and an almost two year old in the house? Not to mention three dogs and some horses to care for.

I will just feel alone.

I never like the feeling that it is my responsibility to hold down the fort. My husband does that much better.

I don't like knowing that something is going to go wrong in the next two weeks. Because something always does when he is gone.

I don't like knowing he will be not only in a different country, but a different hemosphere as well. That feels much too far.

I don't like night time without him.

I will miss our coffee/prayer time in the morning. Although I will drink coffee and pray and he will do the same - it just won't be the same.

I will miss him at church. Although I never, ever, ever walk through the doors with him or sit with him or hardly even talk to him on a Sunday morning, the building will just not feel the same because he won't be in it. And my heart will feel that.

I will miss hearing him preach on Sunday. I love sitting in the second row watching him preach. I always think to myself "You are the best thing that ever happened to me".

I will miss eating popcorn together. Even though I can now add extra salt, it still won't taste as good.

I will miss talking with him on the cell phone as I drive home from work. I don't know why we do that because we get home about the same time and we talk then too. I guess we just always use that time to "de-brief" before we are together.

I will miss the little yellow low-dose aspirin he always, always puts on my sink for me every morning because I can never remember to take it on my own.

I will miss his snoring. Okay, I will miss his snoring just a little bit. I wonder if he will miss mine?

I will miss him when I have to let his dog out in the middle of the night. And I will miss him again when I have to get back up to let him in.

I will miss him when the alarm clock doesn't go off in the morning because I have never figured out how to set it - that's his job.

I will miss him every time Tyler calls "Poppa? Poppa?" I swear I have never heard such adoration uttered in one single word before in my life.

I will miss him at Sunday dinner when our family is all around the table. His chair will be empty.

I will miss the everydayness of life - because now it is all going to feel weird and strange and different.

Hurry home babe. I need you here.