Thursday, February 9, 2012


“….Love lays down it’s own wants to lift up the will of another.

Love let’s go of it’s plans — to hold on to a person.”

Ann Voskcamp

An acceptance letter from a prestigious university. A writing job that promised experience—and the opportunity to edit and publish. A life changing decision.

I'd been accepted to study in a master's program. A job that opened many doors in the publishing business became mine. Finally, I was learning the ropes of what it meant to be an editor and writer. I saw my stories, my writing in print. And then.

“This isn't good timing”, I told him repeatedly. Yet he pursued. Pursued until I had to make a decision. I gave up my job. I decided to put off grad school. I put down the pen, and took up teaching again.

He comes home now, with tired eyes. This is harder than it seems, to study. He reminds himself of why he does it, and the end goal in sight. We budget. We think. We plan. He gets up early in the morning. “This will be a sacrifice,” I say. It will be a laying down of the present because we are looking to the future. The present days of golden country and barren trees with blue sky that beckon him out when he needs to study. Missed airplane rides because of the need to meet with others. Old cars that rattle down the road but that he keeps in perfect condition for this country life of ours. He tries not to complain, he is giving his time for hope of a better future. For himself, because he can, but mostly for us.

We drive. I drive. I wash dishes, clean, cook. This is not where I thought I'd be, but it's so much better. I think of the conveniences of town, and now, this life we've chosen. So different from where we've been. The large metropolitan area we lived in two years ago with all it's conveniences (and inconveniences), and the country we live in now. I climb in Old Spot, our rusted out truck that looks like it has leprosy, and drive. Libraries and grocery stores—it's a trip.

I think of changed plans. He tells me over dinner that it's my turn next. That I should finish that master's degree. I chuckle, and tell him by the time I get ready to do that we may not be in the right stage of life for that. But this letting go, this laying down, this sacrifice is love. And I know that every night when he comes home to a warm meal, a hug, and gentle words that home is more than a house. The four walls we live in don't define who we are. The people, yes, even if we move we will still be coming home to each other. And our kids, grand kids, will not remember the four walls we live in, but the love we share.

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