I miss my Jeffrey. Funny how my daily living is really not that different with him out of town since he's so seldom home anyway, but just knowing he's out of reach makes me want to find him. I hope he's happy and helping the camp kids make great memories.
Meanwhile, life goes on here. Swimming lessons, soccer practices, soccer games, piano lessons, Cub Scouts, 11-year-old Scouts, birthday party (Sam's turning 12!!!!!????), and a race to get ready for Saturday.
A race? Oh, yes, a race. Oliver is running the 5K, Sam's registered for the 10K (although he may change his mind and do the 5K instead), and I'm signed up for the 10K. Not a big deal - except that somebody (me) is injured (again) and can't run. I haven't run for a week. That might not seem like a big deal to others, but it is to me. My sweet running partner is a Physical Therapist and has been helping me. My rotten leg, however, has not been cooperating. I've been on my bike more in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years as I try to maintain my fitness without ruining my leg. I admit that I now really like cycling. My longest ride (it's nothing compared to my husband's rides) was a 30 miler this week - and if I had had time I would've kept going. I've also had some good swims (including an open-water swim in my new wetsuit, which I don't like - I prefer my old one) and also am getting strength training in, and yesterday went roller-blading around the park so I could keep up with the kids on their bikes.
Still, as much fun as that all is, I do miss running. A lot.
So there you go. I miss Jeff. I miss knowing he's near enough that I could call if I needed. I miss having him come home to help tuck the kids into bed. I miss hearing the garage door open when he turns into the driveway.
And to a lesser degree, I miss running. I miss feeling my legs move me up a hill and my stride change to meet my goals. I miss watching the sun rise over the farmer's fields as I run run run.
Guess who's feeling melancholy?
My brother Don gave the most amazing talk in church today. Don is quadriplegic. He was born with Cerebral Palsy and has never been able to walk, use his arms, or speak clearly. Nobody has ever invited him to speak in church before. But Brother Kelly broke the unspoken rule and asked him to do it. What a wonder it was.
"This is my first sacrament meeting talk ever," he began, "so I hope you'll be patient with me as I talk about patience." The congregation was hooked. You could have heard a pin drop during the next few minutes as Don's spirit spoke to ours, even when his voice was difficult to understand. He sat up front, off to the side, with his computer to read from and my dad holding the microphone for him. Fortunately, his words were projected onto the drop-down screen at the front of the church so we could read along, one line at a time (power point is awesome!) as he talked about learning patience, including how he has to be patient with his body's limitations.
Patience with a body that doesn't work and a mind that knows, and a life destined to be single until the next life...
I suppose I can be patient with my leg that hurts a little. I suppose I can be patient with missing a spouse that I at least have home sometimes. I have every reason to be grateful for what I have.
Oh, my, I have so much to learn.