Sunday morning I woke up a bit frustrated. I'm not sure what all I was upset about, but later in the day after getting every one to and from church and coming home where all my family dispersed to relax expecting me to put lunch together I realized I was fighting a bad attitude. "Every one just expects things of me. No one offers to help. What would they do if I just sat down and didn't make lunch? I'm the only one who keeps things going around here."
I am thankful that I recognized the grumbling in my heart for what it was. A war. Selfishness. I set myself to fight against it, though it was a battle that took some time. HH came in the kitchen to ask me what was wrong. After I explained my struggle he stayed and helped me finish lunch. :)
As we sat down to eat I popped an apple pie in the oven for our dessert. Of course it wasn't done right when we finished eating and all the kids grew restless and bored of the conversation we were trying to keep going to keep them entertained. By the time it was done very few of us were left in the kitchen. Mostly just me and the occasional visit from the children asking if the pie was done
yet.
Right before I pulled it out of the oven Amelia came in sassily demanding, "Mom, I really want to taste that pie so get your booty to work."
"Hey!" I said, "You sure are being rude, missy."
Hazel had come in at the same time and agreed with me, "Yeah. Don't be rude to the servant."
I just had to stop. I stood there for a moment. One, I didn't even know how to respond. These kids leave me speechless on a daily basis. Laugh? Correct? I don't know anymore.
Two, I knew internally I was standing at a cross-road. I could choose to let my six-year-old's innocent comment feed into the lies that I was already fighting in my head or I could see her remark for what it was. An imaginative child playing her fairy tale out in my kitchen.
The lies say my kids don't appreciate me; they don't see all the things I do for them. The truth is they see me for who I am: the one who takes care of them.Their Mom.
HH had missed the conversation so I told him about it. Hazel chimed in, "Yeah, because mommy is the servant."
"Yes," HH replied, "She is a servant. Jesus is a servant, too. Mommy is like Jesus."
Gah! So many things happened in my heart at that moment. Conviction. Encouragement. A re-girding of the truth. I can't tell you what it does to this heart that thrives on words of affirmation when my man-of-few-words talks like that!
I love my job. I love my life. I love my husband. I love my kids. I love homeschooling. I love cooking for my family. I love caring for them. I love training them. I love being with them. I live to enjoy them. That, my friends, is my truth.
May you be encouraged to see your truth today.
Blessings!
Showing posts with label HH. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HH. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
He's My Valentine
Sometimes I yell at HH. Sometimes I don't really like him for awhile. Sometimes I say too much. Sometimes I'm mad at him. And sometimes he deserves it.
Sometimes, as in almost never, HH yells at me. Sometimes I'm sure he doesn't like me all that much for awhile. Sometimes he says too little. I know there are times when he's mad at me. And I know that most of the time I deserve it.
HH and I, we have this marriage. And the thing is, neither of us has been here before. Neither of us know how to do this thing called life together. We've had examples. Some really good, and some really bad. But sometimes marriage is like trying to follow a recipe with only a picture of the finished product as your guide.
Sometimes, as in often, we are floundering. Fish thrown on dry land, gasping for air and struggling to find our way home. And sometimes we are floating. A steady, gentle current is carrying us along, easing us around the bends.
I read recently that some are questioning the value that Christians place on virginity in marriage. Reading through the long list of comments I kept wanting to add my own. But there didn't seem like a safe place.
When HH and I said "I do" to each other almost eight years ago, there were many firsts for us. For us both. First "I love you." First kisses. First...other things. First Valentines. Lots of firsts. And, yes, I did have romantic ideas of fairy tale living, but I also knew that what we were really saying yes to was all those amazing firsts and many more amazing moments...and a lot of life. Hopefully lots and lots and lots of life.
I found a safety in that. I found safety in knowing that we were walking into our life together, with the knowledge that we would learn how to figure out life together. I found safety in knowing that he is the only one who knows all of me. There is a venerability in knowing only one person so well.
There have been times when I find fear creeping in. What if he hurts me? What if he lets me down? In those moments I'm taken back to the wise words of a woman who encouraged me to "Put my trust in God who is in my husband" instead of placing that on HH shoulders.
There was a time, around ten years ago, when a man asked me and my friends what we were looking for in a spouse. My 22ish year old self was taken over by my 5 year old self, and I boldly stated, "I wanna marry my dad." My five year old self had no idea how prophetic she was being in that moment.
The man chuckled and warned, "Remember, it has taken your dad 40-something years to become who he is today."
There are times when my thirty-something self has lamented the fact that I wasn't more specific. My five year old self was spot on.
But the beauty isn't that I married a perfect man. It's that I married a man who is perfect for me and we get to grow in perfection together.
A wise man I know once said "relationships are messy." But I disagree...or maybe I've been taught the value of clarifying the definition of what one wishes to convey. I believe that people are messy. And messy people can cause messy relationships. But we're all messy. And this messy person loves her life with her messy HH.
Sometimes, as in almost never, HH yells at me. Sometimes I'm sure he doesn't like me all that much for awhile. Sometimes he says too little. I know there are times when he's mad at me. And I know that most of the time I deserve it.
HH and I, we have this marriage. And the thing is, neither of us has been here before. Neither of us know how to do this thing called life together. We've had examples. Some really good, and some really bad. But sometimes marriage is like trying to follow a recipe with only a picture of the finished product as your guide.
Sometimes, as in often, we are floundering. Fish thrown on dry land, gasping for air and struggling to find our way home. And sometimes we are floating. A steady, gentle current is carrying us along, easing us around the bends.
I read recently that some are questioning the value that Christians place on virginity in marriage. Reading through the long list of comments I kept wanting to add my own. But there didn't seem like a safe place.
When HH and I said "I do" to each other almost eight years ago, there were many firsts for us. For us both. First "I love you." First kisses. First...other things. First Valentines. Lots of firsts. And, yes, I did have romantic ideas of fairy tale living, but I also knew that what we were really saying yes to was all those amazing firsts and many more amazing moments...and a lot of life. Hopefully lots and lots and lots of life.
I found a safety in that. I found safety in knowing that we were walking into our life together, with the knowledge that we would learn how to figure out life together. I found safety in knowing that he is the only one who knows all of me. There is a venerability in knowing only one person so well.
There have been times when I find fear creeping in. What if he hurts me? What if he lets me down? In those moments I'm taken back to the wise words of a woman who encouraged me to "Put my trust in God who is in my husband" instead of placing that on HH shoulders.
There was a time, around ten years ago, when a man asked me and my friends what we were looking for in a spouse. My 22ish year old self was taken over by my 5 year old self, and I boldly stated, "I wanna marry my dad." My five year old self had no idea how prophetic she was being in that moment.
The man chuckled and warned, "Remember, it has taken your dad 40-something years to become who he is today."
There are times when my thirty-something self has lamented the fact that I wasn't more specific. My five year old self was spot on.
But the beauty isn't that I married a perfect man. It's that I married a man who is perfect for me and we get to grow in perfection together.
A wise man I know once said "relationships are messy." But I disagree...or maybe I've been taught the value of clarifying the definition of what one wishes to convey. I believe that people are messy. And messy people can cause messy relationships. But we're all messy. And this messy person loves her life with her messy HH.
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