It's been lonely at Deer Crossing Camp without my wife. I took her home last night so that she could stay with our son, who returned from a summer at grandma's house.
It didn't really hit me until 11:30 this morning, when I sat down for the first time during lunch production. I felt a tear or two as I scribed notes in my camp cooking notebook.
An acute emptiness came over me. It's strange. As long as I was busy this morning, I didn't seem to miss her as much.
It's that empty feeling you get when half is missing -- a void that can only be filled one person, my wife of 28 years. Staying busy only takes my mind off of her for a few minutes.
Although we were at odds in the kitchen sometimes -- probably because I acted like the chef even when Debbie was in the kitchen. It's tough trying to be both husband and chef when your wife is one of your workers. It's a relationship that needs great care and understanding.
Still Debbie was a great comfort these past seven weeks. We'd talk when things became stressful in the camp kitchen. She's always been a good shoulder to lean on, especially when I was willing to listen.
We had a unique relationship at Deer Crossing Camp. Debbie and I were the only married couple at the camp for most of the summer. We'd talk in the evening and work out our differences.
Even though we had some rough days in the kitchen -- probably because her ideas differed from my on some issues -- I've learned to approach marriage as designed by God.
I treat her with understanding and give her a place of honor in my life. After all, we're "together of the grace of life" (1 Peter 3:7). I doesn't make sense to me to treat my wife any other way.
I'm going to continue to miss Debbie as I work this last week at camp.
Unlike the training session last June, when I didn't see her for 10 days, I have a day off on Sunday. I'll be home in time to pick Debbie and Jacob up so we can worship in Camino.
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