What a Man Wants

Yes, it is 4 o'clock in the morning and no, this is not Thelma. Thelma is asleep in one of the two queen beds in our hotel room. The boys are sharing the other bed. Emma has the sofabed to herself. As for me, I'm still trying to recover from tonight's drama--and I'm thinking how grateful I am for a good wife.

We knew it would be a late night. As you probably read in Thelma's previous post, Braeden and Emma spent the week participating in the Missoula Children's Theater. Tonight was the night of the big show. Well, two shows really. The kids start swim lessons and swim team bright and early Monday morning. I need to be at work equally early and am leaving later Monday for a week in London. As much as we would like to have stayed an extra night, our busy schedules meant leaving after the final show and making the intermediate trek to Boise.

Shortly after midnight we found ourselves somewhere near Glenn's Ferry. Everyone was asleep but me. I was passing a big rig on the left and hoping the horrible sound coming from it wouldn't wake anyone. The noise grew louder and louder as I accelerated quickly past the truck. I came clear of the truck. The noise didn't stop and our van began to vibrate violently.

Then it happened. The front tire on my side of the van exploded.

Thelma woke as I was coercing the van from the left lane to the right shoulder, somehow avoiding becoming roadkill to the truck I had just passed. As Thelma told me later, she knew instictively to begin praying as soon as she awoke. I brought the van to a stop and just sat there on the shoulder feeling sick to my stomach. I'm thankful Thelma acted on inspiration. I wish I had.

A few days before leaving for Nevada the thought came to me that I should have our tires rotated or even do it myself. I mentioned to Thelma that the front tires were looking a little more worn than the back tires and could stand to be swapped. I told myself that I would take the van into the tire store if I had time. I didn't. Then, a few days ago, Thelma and I were driving through Wells when I saw the Les Schwab store. Again, the impression came to me. Again, I thought about it but didn't act.

The children began waking up as I sat there on the side of the road and tried to compose myself. I must have looked a mess. Thelma had to remind me that we had a spare tire under the van. I was already thinking about tow trucks. It was my fault that we were in this mess. Thelma could have jumped on my case for not rotating the tires. But she stood by my side literally and figuratively.

Our poor children were in tears. Mark was sitting in a swarm of Idaho bugs that had been attracted to the bright lights when we opened the door near his seat. Emma thought the dark night and flashing lights reminded her of her nightmares. At one point as I crouched down out of site, the children thought I must have been run over by a passing truck.

It took an hour to change the tire there in the dark with a faulty flashlight and other mishaps. There was no criticism from Thelma. No complaining. She kept thanking me for how hard I was working and taking care of everyone. I felt sick and guilty. She stood there on the side of the road supportive and sympathetic.

Last month Thelma wrote a blog post about What Every Woman Wants. I think what every man wants--or at least this man--is to know he is loved in a way that transcends his faults. I love Thelma for the many things she does for me and our children. I love her for who she is. Tonight, I love her for the many things she didn't do and didn't say but could have.