I’m typing this on the table in our hotel room. The boys are in bed. Val is watching a movie on the television. Twelve hours ago I was talking to coworkers about our situation and almost lost it, tears waiting just under the surface. Our gas line should be fixed tomorrow. Construction to repair our house will begin in three to four weeks. The project should take three weeks or so to complete, not counting painting.
The house should be back to normal around February.
Just before Aiden went to bed, I let him talk to my mother on the phone. He asked her if she could come to the hotel and then said:
“My house is broken.”
As I laid with him to help him go to sleep I apologized. He looked at me and said he loved me and a long day finally came to an end.
The feeling of guilt isn’t easy. Val decorated our living room in an attempt to have some normalcy. The boys will have Christmas in the midst of construction. They are excited and acting up as Val and I beg them to calm.
The tragedies of life sting deeply.
On Sunday, our pastor talked about helping people find hope this season. People should see hope in us and want the same. When the tank is empty and the mountains keep getting higher, hope is not our natural reaction.
Yet, I’m standing on the promise of good things on the other side. We will come out of this stronger and more unified than before. Our house will get back to normal and we will function without construction and damage soon.
Broken things will heal.
So tonight I keep putting these thoughts down. A year from now I’ll read this post and understand.
Tonight, it hurts.
Tomorrow, recovery begins. If you are dealing with something today, this week, or this month I pray you find the same. I pray you see hope and know you are not alone. We are there with you, together.