I nearly missed a wonderful gift from my thoughtful, creative wife the other evening.  It all started with a phone call, and a silly comment that I made.

I had finished a long day of teaching at the university.  It is a hybrid class that only meets on campus three days during the semester.  Everything else is online.

I felt that the day had gone well, and I was very happy.  The students were smart and engaged—an interesting group.  I learned a lot.  I hope they learned something as well.

I called the restaurant where I normally work as a host on Friday nights.  I had requested the night off, and I was pretty tired.  Happy tired, yes, but even happy tired is tired.

Nevertheless, I called.  To my joy, they said “I think we’ll be okay.  Stay home.”

So, I called my wife, and told her the good news.  Yes, the class had gone well (I think), and I did not need to host tonight.  I would be home for supper.  And then I added, “We can just sit together in front of a crackling fire, talk, and watch a little T.V.”

Now, there was one little catch to my proposal.  I like our house, but it does not have a fireplace.  So, of course, sitting in front of a crackling fire was not an option.  However, my sweetheart is, as already mentioned, thoughtful and creative—and she has a very quirky sense of humor.

I was listening to NPR’s “All Things Considered” on the way home to catch up on the news.  Thank God!  The partial shutdown is over!

I was almost home, and it was about the time when NPR features a couple of folks—one conservative, and one liberal—who discuss the week’s political news.  The conversations are often spirited, but not angry.  Hearing some intelligent and civil conversation is quite a treat in these days when yelling seems to be the norm.  So, I really wanted to hear what these commentators had to say about the week in politics.

So, I rushed into the house, leaving my computer and books in the car, and barely said “Hello!” to my wife.  I am not sure if I kissed her or acknowledged how happy our little dog was to see me.  I did notice that my wife had set up the card table in the living room.  I rushed over to the radio in the kitchen, and turned it on.

“I made you a nice supper,” my wife said, rather plaintively.  It still took me way too long to get the obvious point.  I was being a jerk.  Yes, I was being an NPR jerk, which may be slightly better than a generic jerk, but only slightly.  I can be exceedingly oblivious at times.

However, my obliviousity doesn’t usually last as long as it used to last.  I walked into the living room.  My sweetheart had a little candle on the card table, and the T.V. was on.  There was crackling fire in a fireplace from You Tube on our T.V.

I had three simultaneous feelings: dismay, tenderness, and joy.

The joy and tenderness were because of my wife’s creative thoughtfulness.  The dismay was because of my insensitivity.

I turned off the radio.  I sat down at the table for a nice meal in front of a crackling fire.  I also told my wife how nice this was and how sorry I was.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying NPR.   There’s nothing wrong with appreciating civil discourse.

But there is something profoundly wrong about getting so invested in my own little expectations that I miss grace, that I miss love.  Flexibility is not a native plant in my heart.  Perhaps it isn’t native to anyone’s heart.  But I need to import it, tend it carefully, help it to grow.  Sometimes, the wonder in life comes not from having our expectations met, but by something that blindsides us.  As George MacDonald used us say, “The door opens behind you.”  And sometimes, the fireplace is in front of us.