A Little Slice Of Heaven

When God gives someone wealth and possessions, and the ability to enjoy them, to accept their lot and be happy in their toil—this is a gift of God. They seldom reflect on the days of their life, because God keeps them occupied with gladness of heart.

ECCLESIASTES 5:19–20

JIM’S STORY IS AS SAD AS IT IS FAMILIAR. HE AND HIS WIFE, Emma, had been married for almost twenty years. Jim grew bored with his wife, his family, and the predictable routines. In a case of abominable timing, he began an affair with a much younger woman just when Emma’s mom was diagnosed with cancer. When Emma found out that Jim had used her visits to the hospital as open windows to visit his mistress, and that the mistress in question was still in her twenties, Emma declared the marriage over.

At first, Jim felt relieved by the turn of events. “I feel deeper in love with Jessie after six months than I ever felt with Emma,” he said, but of course that all changed within the next eighteen months.

It almost always does.

When Jim started to see Jessie’s faults, he dealt with them the same way he had dealt with problems in his first marriage—he sought solace outside the relationship. This time, however, he tried having an “affair” with his ex-wife, Emma! He gave her an expensive gift for her birthday, started telling her how she was the one who had always been there for him, and even tried to talk about the struggles in his second marriage. Emma, to her credit, would have none of this. “You’re starting to do to Jessie what you did to me,” she told him flatly, “and I won’t be a part of it.”

Just as painful to Jim were his children’s reactions. They were angry at him for breaking up their family. They took their mother’s side, and they resented the expectation that they were to spend time with the woman who was at least partially responsible for wrecking their home.

One afternoon, Jim became honest. “I can hardly bear this,” he confessed. “Jessie is so young; she makes me feel so old. She’s starting to talk about wanting a family, but I’m forty-five! I don’t think I can go through the baby stage again. And there’s this younger guy at work that she runs with at lunchtime, and it’s just horrible. How can I compete with his hair and his energy and his knowing all the current music groups? I put in a Bee Gees CD, and Jessie just laughs at me. Besides all that, I see Emma and realize she really is the woman I’ve always loved. Yeah, she has her faults—plenty of them—but we had so much together, and I was such a jerk.

“And I can’t tell you what it’s like to try to have a relationship with a daughter who looks at you with hate in her eyes. She despises me. Every time Jessie so much as touches me, Amanda [the daughter] flinches. Do you have any idea what I’d give to get back what I lost? All I want is what I used to have—to wake up next to Emma, those crow’s-feet around her eyes but a face I’ve loved for two decades, and to walk downstairs to the kitchen and see Amanda eating a bowl of cereal and hearing her say, ‘Hi, Dad,’ without any accusation or rebellion in her voice. That’s it! Nothing special—just the plain old, boring Saturday morning that used to drive me crazy. I’d give everything I have now—I’d even give my right arm—to get all that back.”

The routine of family life can hide the daily miracle we enjoy. Just a simple, quiet Saturday morning sounds like a slice of heaven to a man who has lost it all; but to those of us who still wake up in the same house next to the same spouse with the same kids, we can become blind to what a blessing it really is.

I know that if I were to do what Jim did, the time would come when I’d feel exactly as he does. I’d be willing to swim through hot lava to have just one regular morning like I enjoy all the time now. When we’re surrounded by this blessing, it’s easy to look at the downside—our spouses’ wrinkles or morning breath, the fact that one of the kids left the milk out or the refrigerator door open, a teen waking up at noon, but if something were to happen and it all got taken away, our highest wish would be to restore things to just the way they were—spilled milk and all.

In the heat of a newfound and misplaced affection, it’s easy to grow bored with or even to despise the wonder of a quiet morning in a stable home with a long history. But wisdom teaches us that our hearts will eventually grow weary of the hot romance and ache for the quieter and much more profound love of family that we left behind.

Every routine Saturday morning is a blessing, a quiet miracle, a little slice of heaven. Enjoy it. Protect it. Thank God for it. And certainly, don’t even think about throwing it away. Its familiarity may have masked the wonder; but its absence would tear out your heart.

Parenting certainly has its pains. It calls us to sacrifice, it can be exhausting, and it can test us like nothing else. But it is God’s will for us, God’s gift to us, and in our heart of hearts we know nothing we do will ever matter quite as much as those “boring” Saturday routines.

This morning, I walked upstairs and saw the rest of the family finally getting around to eating breakfast. Graham was home from cross-country practice, eagerly evaluating his high school team’s chances in the coming season. Allison was her quiet self, reading the newspaper and wearing her favorite pajamas. Kelsey was lamenting how a bagel had fallen into the pancake batter. Lisa was outside in the sun, moving the sprinkler to a different spot.

Just an ordinary morning in the eyes of most people, but because I’d been working on this book, my appreciation had grown, and I thought, You know, it really doesn’t get much better than this. I went around the kitchen and touched each child. I tried to take a mental picture, preserving this moment, and I thanked God for this little slice of heaven right here on earth.

Lord God, awaken us to the wonder of the ordinary, normal day. Remind us that if tragedy struck, we’d give everything we have to enjoy a moment that we currently take for granted. Help us to appreciate rather than resent these routines. In Jesus’ name, amen.