During harvest, every night, and sometimes in the wee hours of the morning, this dark figure appears in my bedroom long after I finally call it a day. He stumbles in all grubby, smelling of grease, fuel,
I do his laundry, so even in the dark, I know that he probably looks like he rolled around on the floor of the farm shop or was dragged behind a truck and that his pants may very well stand up on their own from being caked with mud. I also know I could likely plant a few acres with the soybeans, corn kernels, or grains of wheat that have accumulated in his pockets. Cleaning the lint filter in our clothes dryer is always interesting.
I have gotten used to this nightly routine, out of necessity. You see, an infant will wake me long before dawn. Soon thereafter the wee Wilson gals will stumble out of their bunk beds and expect "bekfest". I have to try to force my brain to turn off and get some shut eye, or I will be Zombie Mama the next day, and believe me, she is NOT pretty.
As I'm lying in bed and this nearly unidentifiable creature enters my room, practically falls into bed, and puts a rough, calloused hand on my shoulder, the only thing that goes through my mind is, "I sure hope that's my husband!" :-)
After I put my hand on his, confirming that it is indeed my dear Jeremy, I say a little prayer that goes something like this: "Lord, I thank you for giving me a husband who works so hard to provide for my little family. I am so grateful you got him home safe and sound. In Jesus' name. Amen."
When harvest is complete, Jeremy and I will get a babysitter, go out to dinner, give ourselves a few hours to celebrate that another year of feeding families around the world is behind us, relish the fact that we have a lot to look forward to, and we will fall in love all over again :)