When my husband goes away on trips into the jungle, I look forward to the first couple of days of him being gone. That sounds bad, I know, but we have the kind of life and the kind of job that has us together ALL.THE.TIME. It is one of things I love most about missionary life. But every now and then I enjoy a little alone time (please notice the emphasis on little).
So, for the last three days I have enjoyed not wearing make-up, and not trying in vain to look attractive in a culture where only mumus are appropriate. I have enjoyed not spending 10 minutes of everyday trying to figure out how to make a ponytail look cute (please notice the emphasis on everyday)! I have enjoyed wearing granny panties, not shaving, and not holding my stomach in so I don't look pregnant under my mumu.
I have also enjoyed watching chick flicks at night after the kids go to bed without someone asking, "Why are the pants magic? Did they get some sort of chemical spilled on them? Or was the jean factory built on some sort of meteor crash site?" " Wait. If they are magic why do the girls have to mail them to each other? Why don't they fly or teleport or something? "So what are their powers, exactly?" "What? their only power is that they fit four different girls?" "I'm sure they fit lots of different girls, especially if they are sisters!" WHAT? The girls are not sisters?!" "I don't get this movie. I am going downstairs."
So yeah. For the last three days, I have been comfortable. But now I am getting to the point where I really miss my husband too much to care. I am now willing to shave, and put on make-up and wear ridiculously uncomfortable underwear. Come home, please. Come home!
But really, as much as I want him to come home, I know that what I really want deep down is for him to stay there and get as much work done as possible so that the girls and I can join him soon. And I am reminded in the note he left me in my Bible to find after he's left that it is also what God wants for our family...
"I really hate being away from you and the girls, but I am so excited to build our house so we can start what God has given us to do together."
Love sigh. Not much hotter than a man who loves Jesus. And the fact that he is building our house from scratch with his own two hands (minus one quarter of a thumb) isn't hurting him either.
Another love sigh. Build, baby, build. Then come home to me. I promise to fix my ponytail just for you!