(If you want to hear Lori read this story click)here

 

Today my phone rang. At first buzz I hoped it would be John telling me he successfully boarded a plane for California where he was headed with a triplet of purposes: perform a memorial service, preach on Sunday and surprise our son for his birthday. The anxiety began when I woke up to him rummaging in the bedroom. 

 

"I can't find my wallet." 

 

Although there was a time pre 9/11 when he sweet talked his way on to a plane without the license that was somewhere between home and the boarding gate, he figured that luck had expired. He was running out of time. I joined in the search which included two offices, two cars and most horizontal services in the house. He missed the first train to Philly, the one with wiggle room, but he found the wallet on the second rifle through the second car and I zipped him to catch the eight thirty train for a ten o'clock departure.

 

He would have made it to California just as completely if there had been no scramble, and if I had not been on his team, but the relief adds glory to the success. I smiled when he texted to say he was on board.

 

But the call was from a friend who has five children and just transported every toothbrush, Lego block and mismatched sock to a house a mile away. Let it suffice to say that there are moments of overwhelm. 

 

"Want to be a second adult here for a little while?"

 

This is code for "I am losing it!" and I was inside her front door within ten minutes. Whatever the dynamic was before I came, it shifted. Here was a new face to smile at, ears ready to listen to the description of the scary spider under the stairs, fresh applause for a little girl who solved a problem, and a novel voice to read a chapter of Harry Potter. After a snack of blueberries, my friend seemed calmer. I left with an invitation to call again. 

 

There seems to be an expectation floating below the surface of our lives. We should be able to accomplish everything alone. But I was pleased to be of help to John in his frantic exit, and to my friend on a drizzly summer morning. Even if they could have slogged through on their own, I liked showing up. 

 

Perhaps marriage is not so much two people who are sublimely competent at all times, as it is two people whose foibles interlock like tongue and groove.