My eyelids slowly peeped open, and still-sleepy eyes roamed around the room as my senses emerged from their cocoon. A melodious twinkle of chimes gently swaying in the breeze outside my bedroom’s French doors had awakened me. Since I had nowhere in particular to be this morning I lingered in the sweet-smelling covers a little longer. Something is different, I thought. No smell of coffee brewing tickled my nose, and I remembered. I am alone.

Knowledge of my husband and his whereabouts quickly filled my head. In a hotel room in Mountain City, Tennessee, Mike has awakened to his alarm clock blaring, I supposed. By now, he is probably on his way to orientation at the trucking company where he will be working.

Mike had worked at his regular job and attended truck-driving school simultaneously. When he made the decision to drive an 18-wheeler we both hoped he could find a local job. Time after time, we searched together on the Internet only to discover the good paying local or regional routes required anywhere from a year to two years OTR experience. I smile when I think of how we looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “OTR, what the heck is that?” With a little more reading the meaning became clear, over-the-road experience.

As I scooped coffee into the pot hoping I could make it just the right strength I realized how many little things Mike had always done to make my life sweeter. Missy, our faithful dachshund, showered me with doggy kisses taking a little of the sting out of waking up to an empty house.

My mind and heart determined from the beginning of our new adventure to stay positive about hubby being away for weeks at a time. When someone said, “Oh, you are really going to miss him.” I answered, “Sure, but we will be much more financially secure and get to travel more when he retires.”

When another looked at me with a somewhat pitiful expression and said, “Oh, I’ll bet Mike won’t like being away from home so much. Bless his heart.” I replied, “Probably not, but he is glad to have a good job, and he’ll love seeing the beautiful sunrises and sunsets from the open road.” The only response this garnered me was an incredulous stare as if to say, “Are you for real?”

I refuse to give voice to the whispers of doubt. This morning when a negative thought threatened to ruin what could otherwise be a lovely day I snagged the ugly seed before a weed could sprout on soft soil. Instead, I spoke aloud to the Lord, “Thank you for waking me to the sound of music.”

Before long, a friend came over to do a little odd job for me, and another texted asking if I could run her gift shop while she took care of an unexpected errand. Mike and I spoke briefly wishing each other a wonderful day.

As my tires hummed on the pavement and slowed to a stop at my friend’s shop, God’s love washed over me like a cleansing rain, and I remembered. I am not alone.

Jan Penton Miller can be reached at lilsisjan@yahoo.com.