In Honor of My Grandmother

   My wife has been gone to a conference in Chicago since early Wednesday morning and she should be home again this fine Saturday afternoon.  (A conference?  Take a look at the picture...looks like a little too much fun to be at a conference.)  It has only been four days.  I look forward to her return.  My two-at-home children have made my stint as a single parent quite easy.  Each one is quite self-sufficient, does what is expected, and even with a busy schedule we have been able to survive quite well.
   But this is not the way for a family to function in the long term.  I marvel at those who are single parents.  This must be the most difficult job in America.  Bless you.  For those whose spouse must travel a lot for work, you rank right up there too in my mind.  Bless you.  These times apart for my wife and I have occurred quite infrequently during our 32 years of marriage. Our jobs or job-related activities have not demanded that we spend significant time away from home. But for many, this is a reality. That leaves the other behind to raise children, do household chores without the assistance or appreciation of another adult, run to soccer practice and two hours later return to soccer practice, follow through on school functions and academic progress, and then quite possibly still also deal with diapers and colic. You people are amazing.  God bless you.
   For many years, my grandfather was a truck driver.  He would drive the two-lane roads of America (pre-Interstate days), eat in little greasy-spoon, family-operated diners along the way, smoke two or three packs of cigarettes each day to stay awake and pass the time, and be behind the wheel of that truck for eighteen hours at a crack.  From what I am told, he would typically be on the road for twelve days at a time and that would allow him to be home every other weekend.

I. Cannot. Even. Imagine. 

Now granted, this was back in the 1930s and 1940s before many of the modern limitations on labor had been issued.  My grandfather also refused to join the union for various reasons and therefore did not have the protection on his time and activity that others may have had.  Life, it could be argued, was different back then.  But it all gives me a new picture of the strength of my grandmother, a woman who could have been seen as sweet and demure and quiet.  I would like to publicly suggest that it was my grandmother who had the more difficult job.  Raising three children by oneself mandates that one becomes a warrior, and I don't care when in history that might have occurred.

I. Cannot. Even. Imagine.

   Thank you Lord for my wife.  Thank you for her presence in my life and in our family.  Thank you for her ability to accompany me well through cancer.  Thank you for how together we raise our children, deal with our disappointments, and look forward to our future.  Help me to appreciate her just a little bit more today.  Help her to know how loved she is.  Amen.
   Now on to soccer practice after I switch over the laundry and feed the dog...