A Hand to Hold
“My darling, you are so lucky. I used to have what you have.”The well-dressed elderly lady seated in the church bench afterward to me took me quite by surprise as she leaned in and spoke to me emulating the Sunday service. Somewhat befuddled, I managed to absolute a silence thank you, however at that instant I was a little unsure of the averaging back her words. What did I possess that this obviously well-off woman did not? Strands of pearls adorned her cervix, and I could not aid but notice the numerous sparkling gemstones that graced her aging fingers.As I looked down at my own hands, the response became evident. Interlocked in my hand was the hand of my husband. Listening to the sermon together aboard Sunday morns had led us to a natural closeness to God and to each additional. More constantly than no, my husband would approach for my hand during the sermon or put his arm around mine during the time of silent prayer and reflection. This time together was divine to us in more than fair the manifest course. With our two young daughters in their Sunday educate chambers, we reconnected and recharged later a hectic week of go, playgroups, and diaper changes.When I looked across the pew at the woman next to me, I realized that she sat alone. Most possible, the husband whose hand once held hers on Sunday mornings had passed on and left her with the memories of what I now share with my husband. “I am so lucky,” I murmured to her in answer. As I stood up and arranged to leave the church, I looked up at my husband, Allen, and laughed. What I have with him is naturally a special blessing.As a thirty-something, stay-at-home mom, I relish the chance to speak with other women my old and barter stories almost our young children. However, while the heading turns from life in the nursery carpool line to grumbles about mates, I convert uncharacteristically mute. Stories of husbands who do not equally endow to child attention or housework are commonplace. The same holds for the husbands who travel for days (weeks, months . . . ) on end and have little stamina left over for thriller or family.After 7 years of wedding, I now realize that I am an primarily lucky woman!My husband, Allen, once an administrative with all the oppressions of long commutes, affair trips, and the very real likelihood of transferring along the nation, away from my close-knit extended family, made the difficult decision to resign from his high-powered job. He now owns his own small affair in our hometown. Instead of executive perks, he now gets to look the perky antics of our two tiny girls as we dine lunch together each day. Rather than coming home from work after 7:00 pm, Allen is family like clockwork for our midnight six o’clock household supper. Like each family with young children, many work is left for the post-dinner hour. We draw baths, peruse stories, and clean the dishes. Instead of withdrawing to the world of ESPN or simulating to tinker with something “