Conflicted

I wonder if he felt conflicted.

I wonder, at what point did he know he was dying?
When did he think, “this is it…”? Did he fight it? Did he try to stay?

I know he tried at least once, very valiantly. He sat up one more time.

I wonder if an angel,
a handsome, gritty, masculine, rugged man whom Robb would trust,
came to him and said, “Hey, buddy. It’s okay. She’s okay. They’re okay. She’s stronger than you can believe. Everyone is taken care of. And it’s time.”

I wonder if he looked over his shoulder as he left,
If he watched me, kneeling over the shell of him.
I wonder if he had any second thoughts, if he tried to come back.
I wonder what he saw, what he knew, how long he was with me before he was present with The Lord.
I wonder.

I hope he had a moment to know that he was going.

Barnyard Synonyms

“Guys, we have a new rule.   When we talk about girls, we will not use any words that also name animals.  Fox, chick, cow, wolf, dog… none of these will work, please.  We will use respectful describing words.”

“How about warthog?”

“Um, no.  I wouldn’t advise it.”

Foregone Conclusion

“Tricia, you seem to write and think and talk about marriage as if it’s definitely going to happen. Like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

Actually, that’s exactly what it is. I know I’ll marry again. I know this with an absurd sense of clarity and assurance.

“So does that mean you’re seeing someone?”

Nope. But one doesn’t need the bird in her hand to know that she’s made for the nest.

I think he’ll know that he knows. I already know that I know. We simply need to know each other. There is a place in my heart with his name on it, even though I haven’t yet fallen in love with him. But I’ll know when I do.

I think he’s looking for me.
I think he’s been waiting even longer than I have.
I think his heart has been broken in the way that brings perspective.

Perspective that shows you not to worry about little things,
not to fight about stupid things,
and to let most of it go
in the name of peace and grace and love and
I’m happy to see you again.

Perspective that shows you it doesn’t matter if the boys’ fingernails are trimmed,
that sometimes it’s good to eat dessert first,
that hellos and goodbyes matter,
the scattered Legos are a work in progress,
and silence is a language all its own.

I think he loves God and asks questions.
I think he’s solid in his career,
he’s established and confident,
and we can fearlessly support one another
and dive into a life of words together.

I think he’s smart and funny and thinking, and thereby the most handsome man in the room.

I think he’ll be afraid,
because so am I,
because the only way to be fearless is if you’ve never loved to a place of brokenness before.
I think he’ll be courageous,
because so am I,
because the only way to live is to love enough that you might break into pieces.

I think he wants to be a dad to somebody.
Or to two somebodies.
I think he understands the heart of an artist,
the mind of a writer.
I think we can walk alongside one another,
creating a sum that is greater than all its parts.
I think we will create.
I think neither of us can breathe unless we do.

I belong to him,
and I’m making today’s decisions with him in mind.
I think we will be great.
And we’ll know when we know.

It’s a foregone conclusion.

Wayward Spatula

The bad news: I broke a spatula in the 7Up bread dough.

The good news: I happened to choose the biscuit with the broken piece.

It looked like a big piece of unmelted butter, and I wondered how it made it through the baking process unscathed.  Yeah, that’s not what it was though. It was a rubbery piece of plastic, the size of my palate.

Good thing it landed on my plate. A hostess should always take one for the team.

* * *

7 Up Bread
2 C bisquick
½ C sour cream
½ C 7 Up or Sprite
¼ C butter, melted

Cut sour cream into the Bisquick. Add the 7 Up. The dough will be sticky. You can roll it out on the countertop and make biscuits or simply put it in the pan.

Melt butter in bottom of glass pan. Place dough on top of butter and bake for 15-20 minutes at 450.

And there you have it.

Keep an eye on your spatulas.