18 Hours

Eighteen hours, and it was enough to fill my tank again. I feel refreshed.

Corey and I spent Saturday night away from home, away from the kiddos. We didn't go far and we didn't do anything splashy. We just needed each other.

This phase of our life is intense. Parenting young children is exhausting, as is building a company and a home. Everywhere we look, someone needs something from us. "I need, I need, I need...." The vampires suck us dry. By the time it's 9:00 and the screeching is silenced -- either by bedtime or the off button -- we are dry shells with nothing left to offer.

So this weekend, we snuck away for 18 hours. We didn't go on a cruise (Iike MckMama) or fly to Mexico (like JMom), but the chance to focus on just each other and nourish our marriage was restorative.

I've been listening Mark Driscoll's Song of Songs series lately. (I usually do this while folding laundry, because it keeps my mind occupied as well as my hands.) I've been convicted afresh that my marriage is the most important earthly relationship I have. Right now, our kids are the squeaky wheels. But I would be remiss if I forgot that my husband is the whole bicycle. Without him -- without us -- there is no ride at all.

Eighteen hours is all it took to remind me that this ride is the best. It goes up and it goes down. But every ounce of energy it requires is worth it.