Bitterness, Gasoline, and God's Laughter

He comes jogging up, just finishing his two and a half hour gym session, I'm guessing.

I'm sitting on the lawn, attempting to figure out why the mower keeps cutting out. I'm two hours into yard work and I'm nowhere near finished.

His free time to go to the gym is sponsored by walking out on the yard, the house, the wife and the kids.

My free time to mow the lawn is sponsored by a napping baby and the kindness of a cousin to keep watch over the boy child while I do outside work.

"Does it have gas in it?" He asks. The gas can is next to me, and I calmly reply yes, it does, but it can't seem to stay running.

"Huh." He says. "Well it was working fine the last time I used it." With that, he puts his earbuds back in and jogs away.

I start the mower, finish the side yard and call it good for today. Walking into the house, cousin asks me, "You get it all done?"

"No," I reply, "but I need a shower. I smell like gasoline and bitterness."

As I strip off my grass stained shoes, my dusty pants, my long sleeved shirt required for lawn mowing, my thoughts begin to spiral. It must be nice, I think, to have the time to go jogging and weight lifting. To not be responsible for anything except yourself. To not think of anyone except yourself. To take time to care for your body first, instead of meeting the needs of three little ones before you can begin to think about your own. 

I'm happy to say those thoughts were only for a moment, because as I stepped into the shower I began to think of a different matter, and a different man, altogether. As the hot water beat down on me, I was sure I could hear God laughing at me for my prior thoughts. Laughing because I have nothing to be bitter about.

Each time we pull into the driveway, the smallest one says, "Daddy!" She's sure he will be there when we open the door. Only he's not there to hear her call his name, or walk with her arms outstretched toward empty space.

Each time it happens, I can't help but think how much love he's missing out on. I'm not bitter about him leaving; I pity him for what he gave up.

I haven't lost anything in this situation. I've gained. I'm surrounded by the three greatest gifts I could ever ask for, I have family who loves me, friends who support me, a church to belong to, and the possibility of a future greater than I could have hoped for.

It's not always going to be easy. But it's always going to be worth it.

And that knowledge is sweet as honey.