At Richard’s office Christmas party in 2008 he was given the nickname of the “Travel Warrior”. He was the most traveled employee in the Boise office. How he got to that point is a long, and probably boring story. But it had been a rough year, many weeks in Lewiston and Spokane. 2009 was much better but he still accumulated a fair amount of frequent flyer miles.

I don’t like to complain about his travel for three reasons.

#1. He has never had to travel out of the country to a war zone. Many married men do.
#2. We are still married. Many couples are not.
#3. He is still living. Some women’s husbands are not.

But I’m going to speak freely for a moment.

February 17th is my birthday and Richard will return home that night from his last scheduled trip to Spokane after completing his last busy season on the out-of-town client. There is a good chance that he will have to make a trip back to Spokane here or there, but as of right now he is only scheduled to travel one week for a training in the fall. I could not dream of a better birthday gift. It is an occasion we have been praying for for years.

Only women who have husbands who travel know how hard it is to have a husband who travels. We have always managed fine and been blessed to have good family and friends to help. I sort of settle into a routine and adjust. But as soon as he returns I am reminded of how much better life is with him around.

Last night we loaded the kids in the van and drove him to the airport. We drove the lonely drive home and when I pulled into the driveway I sat still for a minute. The kids were all unusually quiet and somber and I felt a weight settle on me. Another week of single parenting.

But it is only one more full week. It is the last mile of the marathon before the final sprint to the finish that will be the first few days of next week.

I feel so blessed.

I am so happy.

You know how it goes.  You start to slip into a bad habit, a negative behavior or a foul mood little by little.  Then something dramatic happens that jolts you back to your senses and you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and vow to wipe your slate clean and start afresh back where you used to be before you started to slip or maybe even better than you ever were before.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Sisters, don’t judge. I will reform.

On my way to the fabric store yesterday I caught the end of an interview with a woman named Eva Kor.  She was a Holocaust survivor and I was instantly drawn to her story.  When I arrived at the store I sat in my car, quiet and still until she finished her tale. 

She and her twin sister Miriam (what a great name!) were spared the gas chambers where their family perished because a Nazi doctor wanted to do experiments on them.  For years after her time at Auschwitz Eva was angry.  Then in 1993 she had the opportunity to meet a man she referred to as a “reluctant Nazi” doctor who was also at Auschwitz.  After he helped her with something she knew was difficult for him she decided to thank him with a simple letter of forgiveness.  He had lived with guilt and horror all his life and she knew what it would mean for him.  Writing that letter and going through the process of forgiveness was so liberating for Eva that she decided to forgive the doctor who had performed atrocious experiments on her and her sister. 

I was inspired by this woman.  I thought of all the wrongs anyone has ever done to me.  All my hurt feelings over petty offenses.  She says that happiness and freedom are found in forgiveness and I believe her.  I feel changed.

Stories this uplifting make appearances in my life here and there.  Sadly, I can’t recall many and I fear that the story of Eva will eventually be forgotten.  I worry that my own desire to change will not even endure as long as Eva’s memory.  But I am comforted by these words, introduced to me by a family member at Christmas. 

“I no more remember the books I have read than the meals I have eaten, but they have made me.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson

This quote is a great consolation to me because I have felt affected by many books I have read, but looking back can not remember them.  But I believe that those moments when our hearts our touched by books, people or music we are change permanently, even if our conscious memory of them grows dim. 

But necessity is the mother of invention. And sewing projects.  The socks in our house were becoming hostages to Eli.  He was filling them all with toys and carrying them around as his “sock bags.”  I decided to sew an alternative bag that would allow the socks to fulfill their purpose protecting little feet. 

I have sewn before, but never alone.  It went quite well, if I may say so.

It drives me crazy the way Cameron gets what he wants after whining so much, but Eli’s sweetness just melts my heart into mushy goo and I can’t help but let it go.

I spent the second half of last week in Idaho Falls visiting family and friends and friends who feel like family. A road trip usually means fast food. One night after dinner at Arby’s (no offense Arby’s, it tasted great) I was lying in bed feeling sick. I thought of this line from Austin Powers.

“I eat because I’m depressed, I’m depressed because I eat. It’s a vicious cycle.”

Mine is more like this.

“I eat crap. I feel like crap. I vow to eat better. I feel better. So I eat crap again.”

I’m sorry for all the times I’ve used crap in this post. I’m sure my dad is thinking that I should utilize my vocabulary to better express myself. Sorry Dad.

Healthy eaters unite. I mean it this time.

(Well, that is, as soon as I finish this cheesecake.)