Duet

(Chad, taking apples to his deer.)

(Me, writing words at McDonald's after the girls are in bed.)

He sings the song of a woodsman.

Two feet planted firmly in what is.

He's hopeful and practical.

He sees God in the trees and the earth.

He lives a faith of dirty hands and worn boots.

I sing the song of a dreamer.

Never quite certain what is real

And what lives in my imagination.

My faith contains a lot of questions.

My hope is a slippery thing.

He takes me to the woods

Where he observes every detail

With the precision of a hawk.

I try to turn the pages of my magazine quietly.

But also, I notice how the leaves dance with light at sunset.

I tell him he must listen to my favorite song from a musical.

I read the skepticism in his eyes.

But then the music fills our living room

And he stops.

"This is really good," he says.

I smile. 

Our lives sing completely different tunes.

We draw each other in

And sometimes, we push each other away.

But we always keep singing.

One tentative note at a time.

This song has broken my heart 

And ultimately healed my soul.

We are a duet of opposites.

This marriage stripped of pretense

Is a beautiful thing.