How I brought home the Sign of Peace

It wasn’t until my husband, Bill, and I had the Big Camping Fight that I started integrating the Sign of Peace into my daily life.

I don’t remember exactly how the Big Camping Fight started. It was late on a Friday night, and we were scheduled to leave for a camping trip early the next morning. Bill couldn’t find the poles for the tent; I had forgotten to buy batteries for the flashlights; and Jacob, then just a toddler, had ripped into our food bag like a hungry baby raccoon.

As it got later, more and more things went wrong, and Bill and I each thought the other was at fault. We both yelled. I cried. And by the time we put Jacob to bed and started tying our duffle bags onto the roof of the car, we weren’t speaking at all. Continue reading

The neighbor across the breakfast table

Recently my husband Bill and I were on a rare getaway weekend together. On Saturday morning after a leisurely breakfast—where I was not asked to cut anyone’s waffles—we went for a walk and stopped at a rummage sale. (Not necessarily the most romantic event of the weekend, but we both enjoy a good bargain.) The 60-something lady who was running the sale asked if we lived in the neighborhood. When we explained that we were on a weekend away together, she clapped her hands.  

“That is wonderful,” she said with a thick German accent. “That is good for your marriage. I never wanted to leave my children, even for one night. I never thought anyone could do it as well as I could. My husband wanted me to go away with him, but I said there would be plenty of time for that when the kids are grown. Well, you know what? The kids grew up, and my husband left me for a younger woman. So you two are right in spending time together. I wish I would have.”  Continue reading