I found Joe the other day, on the computer. Online. Reading my blog. This was surprising. Not the being supportive part. The part where he was online and camping equipment was not on the screen.
We are not really into technology- Joe and I. We both still have flip open phones and use T9 to text and he can’t receive or send pictures on his. We have the pay as you go plan that only cost 30 dollars a month. Joe only uses the computer to look up maps of wilderness that he has not been to before. Or to order maps… He also uses the computer to sometimes watch episodes of This Old House or Survivor Man. He has a facebook page but doesn’t really use it. Last time I checked he had 17 unread messages accumulating since probably 3 years ago…
Two of Joe’s favorite books are “Every Knot you Need” and “How to Build and Furnish a Log Cabin.” But he’s only read them each once, because now he knows every knot he will ever need and how to build and furnish a log cabin. I love him.
But all this to say is that in the interest of being supportive, Joe, who does not really read email, let alone blogs, read my blog- without being asked. I asked him what he thought.
He said it was ‘good’. He also paused and then said that it made my life sound ‘kinda frantic.’
I couldn’t stop laughing. It was just so accurate. Yes. We live the same life. Joe and I live in the same home. With the same children. We eat dinner around the same table and kiss the same three heads goodnight. And yes my version is almost frantic- with children and keys and worries and yelling, laughing, and where are the children? Oh. There are the children.., and never remembering where I put anything and running out of gas, and time, and patience. My life is one long wonderful run on sentence. But frantic also sounds panicky. And not that I’m controlling or anything-- but I’ll feel free to switch adjectives. I’m sure he meant ‘lively’. My life sounds lively. And it is.
And that’s okay because Joe has enough patience for both of us. He has a deep voice which makes statements like, “just put your keys in the same place every time Kate- then you’ll know where they are…” sound very reasonable and sensible. He is concrete, exact and exciting. Full of detailed plans for grand adventure- adventures that actually happen. His strength of character (and actual strength) and love for what is good and free still makes me weak at the knees.
Our kids are drawn to him like moths to a flame. Like children to a campfire. Which is actually a very accurate analogy considering that he’s been the catalyst behind every family campfire. They love his power as he throws them in the air, and the safety of his sincerity behind every word. They love quiet time, and wrestle time, and all time with dad. He is not frantic. He is our calm. And calm is good. We make a good pair. Calm keeps us centered. … But if I do say so myself, lively does tell better stories.