I got home after being on the road for a couple of days and in the field for almost 16 hours. I was dead tired. I walked into the house — lights still on in the kitchen and living room after 10:15 pm — something that would have really irritated me just a year ago. I could hear my wife’s voice floating down the hall from our youngest’s bedroom. I like it when he’s asleep by 10, but when we talked earlier that evening, I knew my wife was giving him “extra time” — which for him always feels like a cause for celebration.
I dropped my bag on the couch and walked silently to his room, pausing for just a moment in the hallway, out of sight, to listen to my wife reading to him. I love the sound of her voice.
None of our other kids wanted bedtime stories much past 9, but he’s 10 now and still loves them.
I reached his doorway and poked my head in. He saw me, sat up in bed, and started clapping.
I’m pretty sure my youngest is my #1 super fan. I’m so thankful I’m good friends with all my kids — especially the ones who have already left the nest.
My youngest is at the age where he knows money is important, but in that moment in his doorway, he wasn’t clapping for dollars and cents. He was celebrating that I was home.
There’s something about coming home. My wife and I both worry about money, but when we’re together, it’s enough — more than enough. My family is my world. A small celebration with my 10-year-old, when he probably should have been sleeping, reminded me what I’m really working for. I get choked up thinking about it — which has been a common theme these last 40 days as I come back to what matters most.
I’m learning to accept that enough isn’t measured by money or by how hard I push myself. Enough is measured in the moments that pull me back to the people I love — and the welcome reminder that they’re why I’m building all of this in the first place.
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