Sometimes, almost is enough

Last Friday, Doug and I were sitting on the couch discussing our plans for the weekend. As far as our weekends go, they typically involve me taking Daniel to do something really cool and fun while Doug stays at home and slaves away over his final college assignment. And when I say final, I. Mean. Final.

Most weekends we have a birthday party or some other event on Saturday with church and a visit with my parents on Sunday. It's getting old. Really old. I'm tired of having to share Daniel's life with Doug via, "Daniel! Tell Daddy what you did today!" Of course it was fun (and unique) to go to the zoo alone with Daniel, but reliving the experience for Daddy when we get home is a far cry from Daddy actually getting to take part in the fun. Sundays are almost worse. It's been nice to get into a church-going routine, but there's just something not quite right about attending church without your spouse. It feels. . . bleh. It just feels wrong. Not to mention that the "family time" we spend at my parents' house afterwards is missing a big, ol' chunk of our family.

At any rate, we were on the couch, discussing our weekend plans, and it occurred to me that Doug will be finished with school in two. More. Weekends. I was sitting there telling him what things I had planned for Daniel and me for the next few weekends and WHAM! It hit me that we had a swim date, a youth fair, and a birthday party and we. Are. Done. (Please forgive the heavy emphasis - this is just a really. Big. Deal.)

I almost burst into tears. Knowing that the end is in sight, knowing that I only have to make it through two more weekends sans hubby, knowing that we're almost there - this time? It was enough. It's been enough to vault me into some place of higher understanding that everything - everything - is temporary. These last eight years of really, really hard work and really, really long nights of missing my husband while he trudges through the mud of academia have been temporary. One day (hopefully in the not-too-distant future) we'll look back on this season of our lives and we'll say, "Wow. That was hard. How did we do that?" We'll be on to t-ball, soccer, PTA, and Lord knows what else, and we'll look back on this part of our journey and we'll know that it was temporary. It's over. It was hard, but it's over.

Sometimes, almost isn't good enough. Sometimes, almost means the difference in making it and not making it. It means something more concrete. But this time? This time almost is enough. We're almost there. And ya know? For the first time in eight years, I can wait.