Del's Sunday's are exhausting.
As Bishop, he is in meetings starting as early as 6:00, and many Sunday's evenings, he doesn't get home until 9:00 or even 10:00 p.m. But most Sunday's , he does manage to get home by usually 6:00 for dinner.
Today, he came home tired - and in pain- and I could see the weariness on his face. But he joined us for a yummy dinner, then read Emerson some books, then made almond chocolate clusters with Emerson and then came in our room to take off his suit coat. As he walked towards the door to leave the room, I stopped him and asked him where he was going? He had mentioned at the dinner the table that he was going to make it an early night tonight, so I expected him to start that process.
But no. Through his painful steps and aching movements, his answer to me was , 'I'm going to go rub my mothers feet, then I will collect the eggs and then put the chickens in the coop.'
Yes, he's going to go massage his mothers feet.
Her Bishop. My husband. Her son.