Praying Him Home

Somewhere over Europe right now, my husband is on his way home to us. After two weeks of working his computer guru magic in Turkey, he’s headed back to Texas at last. It’s going to be a long night for both of us.

His plane doesn’t land here until 2:00 tomorrow afternoon. He hates to sleep on planes, so will be up reading and watching movies. I hate for him to be in the air so I’ll be praying for him until he those wheels touch down.

There was a time when I would have sat up wringing my hands and worrying. I somehow believed that my worrying was what kept that plane up in the air. It’s my nature to worry, and telling myself not to is pointless. I’m going to worry.

Unless I pray.

When he flies and I pray, peace settles over me. I sit in quiet conversation with Our Creator and tell Him of my fear. In silent whispers He calms my nerves and He sits vigil with me. Not in fear but together. His Father and his wife keep company together as we wait for his return. Not afraid, simply expectant. Counting down until he’s home again at last.