The Least I Can Do: Feeding My Husband
My husband and I are in a stressful and busy season. My husband specifically is emotionally and physically drained on a lot of days. We have had a few late nights over the past few weeks in combination with an adjusted schedule (where I am not running off to get my workout in before the sun rises) that has resulted in me sleeping in more often.
While I am a believer in listening to your body and allowing it the rest that it needs, I know that my body has gotten out of routine. It has gotten used to getting up at 5 am to make Brent lunch to get back in bed and not rise again until around 7. So this morning I forced my body to stay up.
I made his lunch and realized we really did not have much lunch food. No leftovers, barely any bread, and peanuts that have yet to be made into peanut butter in the Vitamix. So I got out a pan and made some quesadillas on the stove. At 5 am. It seemed a little silly.
So as I filled the rest of his lunch bag with a hard boiled egg, apples, and a granola bar I realized this simple act of service meant much more than me getting out of a wake up schedule. As I kissed him goodbye, with his shake and lunch box in hand, I was reminded of how heavy of a heart he had. That in the midst of all the circumstances, he didn't have the luxury of sleeping in another hour.
I cannot take away the stress that physically takes over his body. And I believe it true that it affects us physically. But I can start his day off right. I can fuel him with nutrients in a shake and a lunch that is a combination of both energy sustaining and comforting. That in the midst of a busy work day, another afternoon of stress, and getting through this season, that he does not have to worry about what to eat. Or to even have to think about eating properly. He is just trying to get through.
When I was in high school and college, still living with my parents, I remember on a few stressful mornings, my mom going out of her way to make my lunch for me. All I would do was simply ask and she would come downstairs to make me a sandwich or even run to the store with a jacket over her pajamas to help me alleviate the stress of getting out of the door on time with food in hand.
So I thank my mom for teaching me the love language of feeding others. Because at the end of the day we all have to eat. And when life is crazy, I think it is easy to forget how food affects are bodies.
In this busy season, feeding my husband is the least I can do. Even if it means getting up, and staying up, at 5 am.
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