The week is spinning too fast. Commitments press into one another. It's impossible to tell if we're coming or going. Lonny and I are giving one another scraps.
And we're dangerously on the verge of being child-centered again.
We try. We really do. But this week it's a science fair. And Awana. And a dozen other very-good-for-the-boys things.
Our desire is to hold our priorities. God first. Marriage next. Then the kids. But we're on a wild track and the pace is steady and hard. We need to step off.
And I decide to share this revelation while the van is stacked with kids.
"Do you remember," I ask,"when Marilyn shared about the marriage candle?"
Lonny glances at me. The interstate is loaded with semis and our vehicle is loaded with noise. We haven't talked about our friend Marilyn for a decade and he obviously has no recollection of a marriage candle. But he wonders what he's in for and he looks at me like I've gone half mad.
"The marriage candle," I say. "She and her husband had one. It was on the mantle. One of them would light it when their marriage needed time."
"Okay," he says. "I can understand that. Needing some time."
He's willing and I'm determined.
So when we get home I pull a candle from the closet. It's deep and red and heavy in my hands. I place it on the piano. Strike a match. The wick flickers. Then the candle holds a steady flame.
The marriage candle is lit.
A secret whisper.
It's time to restructure.
Time to make time for us.
Lord, help us hold our priorities when our world has gone wild. Especially when our world has gone wild. Amen.