Sunday, March 18, 2012

My Husband Is Back

I sat in my car in the church parking lot at about 1:30 this afternoon, waiting for the first glimpse of the church van coming up the hill.  They were almost home from the spring break mission trip.  My husband was almost home.  Whitey Bear, as I have affectionately named the church van (don't ask...or do, but I don't have an explanation) came rolling into sight and I excitedly got out of my car.  My husband was back.

Or so I thought.

It turns out that when your husband is the YM and the leader, he doesn't really get back right away when they roll into the parking lot.  As YM yes, he's all there in full swing.  But as my husband, he's not back...

...until he has given instructions to the youth to clean out the trash and stuff in the vans...

...until he has gone to pee which he needed to really badly...

...until I guard the opening to the trailer saying the youth can't get their luggage until the vans are clean...

...until I get in the trailer and hand baggage and pillows and bedding out to the waiting hands...

...until I bonk my head really hard getting out of said trailer...

...until we tease Starla about bringing SIX bags on a five day trip...

...until we speculate whether the packet of buffalo sauce sitting on the trailer's fender rode the whole way back from Galveston there...

...until we divvy up peoples' luggage, give some hugs, say some goodbyes...

...until he thanks the adults that went on the trip...

...until we wait for the last youth to get picked up...

...until we realize all the kids are gone but there are still some unclaimed pillows and bags leftover...

...until we stash the abandoned items in the youth room to be reclaimed on Wednesday...

...until he re-parks Whitey Bear in its designated van spot...

...until we load up his own suitcase and bedding into my car...

...until I follow him to a gas station to fill up the rental van...

...until I follow him to Enterprise to return the rental van...

...until he fills his tummy with his choice of any restaurant...

Then my husband is back.  We hold hands across the table while he eats.  He fills me in on the trip.  I fill him in on my time at home while he was gone.  We head home together where he is reunited with our crazy dog. I unpack his suitcase and start washing his sandy, sweaty mission trip laundry.  He falls asleep.

My husband is back.  All is well in our little world once again.

:-)

1 comment:

  1. Shout out from Momconformist about this post! Check it out:

    http://momconformist.com/2012/03/19/hes-back/

    ReplyDelete