Deep Love

July 8, 2020

It’s a Cuba kind of day. Even in the early morning, the heat was palpable; by noon, it was almost unbearable. The only reasonable time to get things done is in the evening, which is why so many of our worship meetings didn’t start till 8:00 pm. It’s 7:00 now, and finally getting tolerable. I suppose I should feel somewhat guilty to have accomplished so little today. After fixing breakfast for my mother (her favorite—“milk egg”), washing up the dishes, and helping my brother load some lumber onto his trailer, I didn’t do much. 

Linda did far more, watering and weeding mom’s flower garden, and giving her gentle care and conversation. Now, she’s watering gardens here at home. Last night at bedtime, she wanted me to check on mom after hearing an odd sound on the baby monitor that connects her room to the one we were in. I told her it was nothing, and immediately knew my nonchalance bothered her. I checked on mom, who was sleeping peacefully, but Linda was still upset.

This morning we talked, and I understood something that had completely eluded me before. Linda hates to travel. Anything more than a trip into town for groceries is an ordeal for her. Nonetheless, almost every other week, she gets in the car and we drive for nearly two hours to spend a day with mom. She does it because she loves my mother. What I didn’t know was how much these trips took out of her. She told me this morning, “Every time I come, it makes me sad because it makes me think of my mom. I miss her so much.” Not only does she endure the drive, but also the reopening of a heart wound that’s been there just beneath the surface for seven years. I don’t deserve a wife who loves like that, but then again, there’s no way I’d settle for what I deserve. I do however, give thanks again for the woman God placed into my care more than fifty years ago.