The house was quiet, daughter gone for the weekend. Ken and I decided to hunker down and face a couple of demons that had been haunting us for ages and even years. Double demons: The Budget and The Will. Ken had been mapping out a budget, a la Dave Ramsey, for six years but we had never actually implemented it. We even took the course, paid off debt, but had never made the budget work. I bought the cute little envelope system, Ken worked on the numbers, and we committed to sit down together and get it started. While we were at it, we decided to also finally fill out our Last Will and Testaments that our lawyer had given us (also) six years ago. I guess we've been coasting for half a decade?
But first, Ken had to check on one of his houses in Bremen, so since we're both off the wagon and there's a Cracker Barrel in them there woods, we gleefully glutted ourselves on Mama's Pancake Breakfast and biscuits. Lord help. It's been almost 24 hours and I'm still feeling the pain. Cracker Barrel is known for its delicious Southern food, but my little secret is that a significant number of my outfits come straight from their bargain rack in the back. I don't know who their official buyer is, but she's somewhere between Dolly Parton and Monet. The blingy DNA that flows through my veins is praising Jesus every time we go in that place. Ken said he'd be back, when he saw me pawing through the 40% off shelf.
We finally made our way back home and got into warrior mode at the giant lawyer desk that dominates our study. While he was crunching numbers, I was throwing away most of the trash that had filled up our in-box over the last two years. We came up with a plan for our money, without me pitching a fit or even complaining. It was a Christmas in July miracle. Per Ramsey's model, Ken is the Nerd and I am the Free Spirit, never the twain shall meet. But I am the Saver and Ken is the Spender. Ramsey says that's just a disaster waiting to happen. It's true. We're living proof that there is a God, simply from the fact that there have been no homicides between us. Yet.
We got through that phase and then jumped into our Last Will and Testaments. Each section was checked and filled out, until we got to the part where we had to tell what our wishes were concerning our last days. There were strange questions and lots of legalese that required brain cells. These were difficult things to think about. Nobody wants to talk about dying, about the truth of what your kids are going to do with your guns and your Grandma's china when you're toast. We're not sick or (that) old but it needed to be done. None of us knows when that big dead branch on the pecan tree in the backyard is gonna let loose on our head. In those quiet moments, we decided to look straight into those dark places and just go there for a spell. Ken told me in a few minutes his longing for heaven, his view of time, his summation of the eternal. My tears fell unbidden, as I marveled at his simple and complete trust in God. We went ahead and wrote down the few things we would want at our funerals -- the songs, the pastors. I laughed at Ken's wish for Fanfare For The Common Man, but he was quite serious. As we contemplated the end of our days, that terrible unknown chasm, I probably felt closer to him than at any other time in our 36 chaotic years. Suddenly, everything was distilled into a clear, concise oneness of heart. God, each other, family, life's work, the joy of the day. It don't get any better than that.
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