Bittersweet

"Isn't it hard on you that your husband is gone all the time?" or the "How do you handle being home alone so often while he is out on the road?", coupled with a face of either disapproval, concern, or sympathy. I get this at least once a week.

I married a musician who stuck with his dream and faithfully turned a childhood hobby into a lifelong profession. With that comes a lot of uncharted and unfamiliar territory for the naive girl by his side. This means our schedules are totally opposite, and he is usually on the road anywhere from 3-5 days a week. When he's gone I get a good morning text, an afternoon call, and finally the most important call sometime between 1-3 am. (Are you coveting me yet?) Sometimes on really good days we IM or text randomly throughout while he is riding in the van to his next destination. (Glamorous, huh?) Another perk of being the wife of a driven musician is the ever so popular job of being the only parent to our little one for days at a time. There is no, "You wait until your father gets home.", because I know it could be awhile. I get the weekend chores to do alone; along with the worries of the presumptuous girls who consider themselves "with the band".

You may or may not be making your own judgements as you read this; but in my mind there is a hint of a silver lining.

I am privileged to stand beside a man who didn't settle. I have been there with him when he literally had nothing, and I heard his protests when so many told him he couldn't. I've been there with him when he tried the 9-5. I saw his face when he came home stripped of his joy every single day of that long year. I've seen him stand firm in his choices, and be more deliberate about his life than many people our age.

In a world where so many allow their job to pick them, or simply surrender themselves to a "successful" career; I feel sad. I especially feel sad for men who are doing something for which they were never made, and it shows on their face. Those men find Chris often. They approach him at church, at a bar, or in a group of friends. They each share their stories with a look of defeat in their eyes about how they always wanted to pursue a God given passion but-for one reason or another-they gave up. They tell him about the breaking point somewhere along the line when they got scared of failure or listened to someone telling them they couldn't.

I was drawn to his passion from the beginning. I respect the drive he has for something he loves. He stuck true to a calling that runs deep in his veins, never wavering by the judgement of others. He is doing exactly what he was made to do, and for that I could never be more proud.