Making Dreams Come True

After growing up as a military brat, attending one of the most spartan military schools in the world and serving 20 years and counting in the US Navy, I consider myself to be a pretty organized and attention-to-detail kind of guy.  It used to be that the checking account was balanced and reconciled monthly down to the last penny.  Mail and papers were filed expeditiously and with precision.  Each clothes hanger in my closet faced the same direction with the exact spacing of two finger widths, just like the way we did it at the Virginia Military Institute.  My car was washed and waxed on a regular basis, boasting a sense of pride.  And checklists galore for every evolution.  Oh yeah, I was one together dude.

But after 17 years of marriage, two boys, pets and the daily grind of family life, the order of magnitude of my meticulous ways (read anal tendencies) has dropped a notch or two.  And that's a good thing.  Now, I'm totally okay with piles of clothes on the floor, stacks of unfiled papers all over the house, an unmade bed and a lawn that's not edged.  Don't get me wrong, I still try to get to these things, but if I don't, I won't have a conniption like I would in the past.  I'll admit it, Carol has worn me down.  I've joined the Dark Side of the organization world - and I like it.  There's a sense of joy and liberation over not stressing over the little things that really don't matter.  No longer does every second of every day of vacation need to be planned.  It took a little bit of letting go.  But it's the right thing to do.  And I'm liking it.

There are certain things in the organization arena that I still think are pretty important though.  Like being on time - especially for church.  If you're going to make time for God, then be on time for God.  But as a family, we've been pretty bad about getting to church on time for whatever reason.

And so a couple of weeks ago, Carol went down to Alabama for a surprise 40th birthday party for her good friend, Heather.  I was Mr. Mom for a couple of days.  The boys and I had some good bonding time.  On Sunday, we got up, had breakfast, got showered and dressed and bam, we were on time for church.  Not a big deal.  It just kind of happened that way.  When Carol came home, I casually told her about how things went with the boys and mentioned how we managed to get to church on time.

Well.  Did I ever strike a nerve.  I haven't had the pleasure of visiting Yellowstone Park but I could've sworn Old Faithful was catapulting highly pressurized water right there in my kitchen.  Carol's reaction was energized and comedic.  I haven't heard octaves that high in a while.  Now it was crystal clear.  Surely Carol was the weighted anchor that kept dragging down "my dream" of getting to church on time.  It's all Carol's fault!  Good thing she was gone for a few days so I could experience the ecstasy of promptness.  My lovely wife's profuse (and highly sarcastic) apologies for crushing my dreams of butts in pews on time was pretty dang funny.  I honestly wasn't trying to rub it in her face.  But she was giving it to me good.  It was a lungbuster of a laugh.  I'm sure that if I was drinking something at the time, it would've came shooting out of my nose.  I am very happy she was only joking.

And yet, like the verbal diarrhea that spews from the mouths of the inebriated, sometimes a little bit of truth escapes.  For the last couple of weeks, "my dream" has come true.  I didn't ask Carol to change a thing.  And yet we've been getting to church on time on a regular basis.

The boys making a beeline for the car.  Gotta get to Bellevue Baptist on time!  CJ's job is to grab the Bibles.  Jake's job is to not spill anything on his shirt.

And there she is, making Daddy's dream come true.

We did have a glitch this past Sunday though.  Our garage door opener broke that morning.  I had to manually pull the door open and stand on a ladder while supporting the open door while Carol drove the cars out of the garage.  And so we were just a tad late.  Dream crushed.

To be clear, I really wasn't making any fuss at all about being late for church.  It's nice if we're on time but I'm not gonna get in a bad mood or lose sleep over it.  I do appreciate the family's extra effort in being more timely for this one thing though.  You see, Carol does so much for me and the boys already.  I've got zero to complain about.  Absolutely nothing.  She still makes my dreams come true - and I'm not talking about being on time.