Part of married life is having your spouse say something to you. Repeatedly. And you say you get it. But you don’t, not really.
We have a new church home (remind me to blog about it). You may know that I dislike the term “church service” but if I use newfangled words you won’t know what I’m talking about, so: The church service is now our service. Everything is still new to us, but it’s ours. And once it’s “our service” in “our church” I think it’s important meet other people, especially those who may be new to the whole church service thing.
While I am talking to people after the service, it’s not unusual to have Kay come up and tug my arm, saying, “Jon, we have to go.” Talk. Talk. Tug. “Jon, we really have to go.” And afterwards: “Jon, you go off and talk with this person or that person, and I’m stuck with the kids.” To which I reply, “The kids are fine. You’re not ‘stuck’ with them.” That earns me the You Don’t Understand look.
It is so easy to hear someone’s words, and because you understand the words you think you understand the person. It’s Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra all over again. This is why Kate Bush sings, “If I only could, I’d make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places.”
I was Mr. Mom while Kay was away visiting her dad. Yesterday the kids and I “went to church” (I hate those words but you know what I mean), and afterwards I wanted to spend some time meeting people.
But there were three pairs of eyes looking at me.
I was stuck with the kids.
So we left.