Finding your balance is an invitation to lean. I depend on John's sense of calm when we face an emergency. When our son crashed his grandmother's car he called home and asked for dad.
"He's not here. Can I help?" I offered.
"No, that's ok. I'll try again."
Two
calls later John was home and Micah spilled the beans about standing on the side of the road with three cop cars and a totaled Saturn. Although I was indignant to be left out of the loop, he was right. All I would have done was scream.
But John leans on me too. When we are listening to a couple open their hearts, sometimes he forgets that the conversation is about them, and chimes in with a story about us. But that is all right. He needs
me.
Being in a relationship makes us vulnerable. We can get hurt, and if we are honest, we do. Sometimes the person who promised to hold us up gets distracted and lets go.
John is presenting a paper to his colleagues next month about when the people who are supposed to protect each other... don't. He unwraps the reasons and invites us to pay attention to those distractions that steal our attention from keeping the person we love
safe.
Not only that he practices what he preaches.
