- Coffee Hour @ Chicklit Power...
Oh, how to put the next thirty days into words? I’ve actually dreaded
writing this part of the season of Nana Holds, though I have learned so
much from it so I will try and write about it in a way that glorifies
Him and all He’s taught me and brought me through more than glorifying
the pain it took to get me there.
I think to shed some meaningful
light on just how dark things had gotten, I need to share something I
forgot to mention that happened back on our little getaway. It was
Friday evening and we were having dinner, finally. I say that because we
had waited about an hour to get into this restaurant, which was no big
deal. There is plenty to do
while waiting. After all, it’s Vegas!
All around us was gambling fever, people everywhere. It’s one of the
more interesting places to people watch. Anyway, when we finally were
paged and taken to our seats, for some reason, it took another fifteen
minutes for them to even acknowledge us, and then finally, our waitress
took our drink order, promising to be “right back” to get our food
order.
Well, I don’t know about you or your man, but when mine
gets hungry, he gets a bit cranky. I remember trying to find things to
talk about to distract him, such as the ambiance of the restaurant.
Mistake! Ugh, talk about anything but the restaurant. Get his mind off
of waiting, away from food and on to something that makes him smile.
In
the midst of the frustrated tension, our drink orders arrived and as
the waiter left, I picked mine up and did what Bryden likes to do.
“Cheers.”
At the thought of Bryden, he smiled! It worked . . . for
a minute. I wanted desperately to know what in the world was going on
in that head of his. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and . . . I
can’t even put words to it but I can see him, his eyes devoid of joy,
his face tired and his shoulders positioned in such a way that they
looked burdened in a heavy sort of way. And his frustration was
increasing as the minutes ticked by with no appearance from our waitress
for our food order.
When the waitress finally returned to take
our order, twenty minutes later, George simmered down to calm but he let
her know in a sarcastic way that only he specializes in
that
he thought she disappeared and went home. Then like the flip of a
switch, he asked her about the steak he wanted to order. After listening
to her explanation of how it was cooked, he ordered his dinner, and I
ordered mine. “I’ll get that right in,” and she walked away.
I
still had over half of my drink. I began to sip on it and then proceeded
to ask him about work and his job that morning. Mistake! Big mistake!
Out
of nowhere, he exploded emotionally like a helium balloon that had popped. What came out of his mouth didn't surprise me and yet it did. To finally have this confession that I had suspected months ago exposed for after dinner view
both of us to look at was painful in a raw way, especially
considering the expletives that came with it, which I will not repeat.
But
there in the captivating and exciting ambiance of Gordon Ramsay’s Pub
& Grill, my husband blurted his disdain for his job, confessing he
was in a rut and hated his life.
I, for one of the few times in my life, was rendered speechless!
Join
me tomorrow for more, and rejoice in trials for they are temporary but
how we endure through them will go with us into eternity!
Evinda
- Nana Holds!
— I thank Him for my husband and his love for me but how do I show my husband that I am thankful for him, his love?
