The other day, I opened the closet by the back door, and John’s crocs were sitting there. In a flash, I realized that he won’t be wearing them for six months!
We each bought a pair of crocs when we moved back to the east coast nineteen years ago. We were living in the basement of our church, in one of the mission apartments, at the time; and the floors were all hard surface, those industrial-type tiles you see in schools or hospitals. I was pregnant and needed some footwear that would provide a bit of cushioning for my swelling feet.
We have used our crocs as house slippers ever since. They almost feel like an extension of ourselves. They’re on our feet any time we’re home.
Speaking of being home, there’s not many things John loves more than changing into comfortable clothes when he comes home from work at the end of the day. Seeing his empty crocs in the dark closet reminded me that they won’t be seeing the light of day any time soon…which also means John won’t be “comfortable” for six months.
On ship, there isn’t really an “end of the day” when he can change into sweats and kick up his feet. The only time he won’t be in uniform is literally while showering or working out or sleeping in his bunk.
Since he left, my prayer for him has been, “Lord, keep him safe…and keep him sane.” Today, I’m also asking God to give him moments of comfort and relaxation. I guess that’s part of the staying sane, isn’t it?
I was at a planning meeting the other day for a women’s event, and as we were praying for various requests, a dear friend of mine prayed that John’s bunk would become his “prayer closet.” I like that!
He’s sharing a room with one other officer, but the room is designed for one, so John doesn’t have a literal closet. He doesn’t have a desk. His bunk is really the only space on board that’s unique to him. So I too am praying that it becomes a place, not only for him to rest, but to rest in the presence of God.
This week, when you slip on your slippers, can you whisper a prayer for him? I’d be ever so grateful!