Today was Clint's first day of work at his new job. And tonight, instead of going to youth (and taking Max with him) - he had to go back to Abbotsford and tape his new church's evening event.
I was mentally trying to figure out how to get Max to youth (north of our home) at 7:00 and Drew to his youth (south of our home) also at 7:00, when Clint said "I came home for supper tonight, but I could have stayed for lasagne. They make supper for us on Tuesday nights..."
(Max and Drew go to their dad's place on most Monday and Thursday evenings, and with weekends being chaotic, I look forward to a 'family meal' on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Now he might start eating with pastors and such on Tuesdays?)
I know in my brain that this is a good thing for him.
All of it.
The job. The lifestyle. The opportunities.
But my heart is a little slow getting on board. We won't be going to church as a family on Sunday mornings anymore.
And I'm grieving.
I don't why that's such a big deal with me, but it is. The four of us all go our separate ways during the week; different schools, jobs, activities... but Sundays we always start the day out together. Not always happily. Not always on time. Not always with the same purpose. But we still go.
Regardless of all the crap we've gone through during the week, or even the morning, it all slides away when I see my older two and all their friends sitting together in those front two rows on the left side. I've only got one more year of Drew sitting beside me and then he will graduate to those coveted seats with his big brothers.
"Wha'd ya think of church this mornin, mom?"
Will I ever hear that from him again?
Oh my goodness. It so hard letting them go.
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