he masks my fears

it has been three days since davids departure. my emotions shift by the minute. i tell myself that two months is hardly anything. some families deal with husbands and fathers being away for much, much longer. but then rhys says "thank you" to brother without being prompted. he makes a new animal noise. what if corbin makes his first soccer goal? its those moments. those tiny, perfect, beautiful moments that make eight weeks seem like eternity. but we will do it. because we have to. because we have been called to. because in the long run, it will make our lives, it will make us, better.
i feel foolish being scared of the noises that the house makes in the middle of the night. its odd how one persons presence can make all the difference. it hides the imperfections. masks the fears. but if there is one thing i have learned about myself, it is that in these uncomfortable days, i usually become a better version of myself. no, not because with him i am less. no no. it is merely because i HAVE to be better. i can not rely on him to be the rational one. the knowledgeable man. the calm and collected parent. i have to be both. and i step into shoes i never thought i could fill. Jesus, in all of His glory, stretches me and whispers "see? you can do it." and i lean on His whispers every day. because without Him i am nothing. and it is without him that i am less.






she can't tell me that all of the love songs have been written,
'cause she's never been in love with you before.
your skin smells lovely like sandalwood.
your hair falls soft like animals.
i'm tryin' to keep cool, but everyone likes you.
i want to kiss the back of your neck,
the top of your spine where your hair hits,
and gnaw on your fingertips and fall asleep,
i'll talk you to sleep.
but i'll be the one, i will have chosen.
i'm tryin' to keep cool, but everyone here likes you
i'm not the only one.
your skin smells lovely like sandalwood.
your hair falls soft like animals,
and nothing else matters to me.
she can't tell me that all of the love songs have been written,
'cause she's never been in love with you before.
your hand,
so hot,
burns a hole in
my hand.
i wanted to show you
 sandalwood, lisa loeb