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You are my favorite mammal
Because you give the best hugs.
Because you would stay up late digging a garden for me in the dark.
Because you are almost always right.
Because you eat our tomatoes, even though you hate tomatoes.
Because you are so patient with the Sprout.
Because you roughhouse with the Goose.
Because your heart is still full of adventure.
Because you tolerate decorative pillows.
Because you encourage my creativity.
Because you make me want to think more, and harder, about more things.
Because you walk around the house with a baseball bat when I hear a noise in the middle of the night.
Because you get my humor.
Because I want to spend time with you more than anyone in the world.
Because you are a faithful friend, son, believer, worker.
Because I want to spend three times three times three times three times three times three more years being married to you.
Happy Anniversary.
I used to be in possession of an old wooden plaque that said, in all caps, ‘PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE.’ It was once my mother’s, passed down when I left for college where it hung above the bedroom door each place I lived until I lost it in the move when I got married. Bad timing to lose it. Not that FCL requires a great deal of patience; rather, I see my own impatience, failings, and sin so much more clearly against the mirror of marriage.
Anyway, that plaque used to fall off of the doorframe and hit me in the head at opportune times. I needed it today. My husband, my daughter, and my dog put up with largely unprovoked testiness brought on by a series of small, silly things.
I accidentally peeled paint off of the kitchen wall. FCL and I totally missed each other in a conversation. The Sprout is teething. My calendar is too full. Our house is a disaster zone of half-unpacked bags, half put-away Christmas decorations, and toys. The Goose is constantly underfoot. Maybe it’s just that I hate taking down Christmas decorations. I’m sure that’s it.
We made bacon omelets for dinner. FCL opened the lid on the carton of our new brown eggs and laughed, calling me into the kitchen and said, “I think you have a word from the Lord.” On the inside of the lid was written “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
It’s appropriate that He spoke to me through an egg carton. Much more efficient than skywriting and more likely to get read than a fortune cookie. I am so richly blessed, and He continues to give me new days in which to experience Him, His creation, and His grace upon grace. AND His mercies are new every morning. For me.
What a perspective-shifting reminder of the goodness and mercy extended to us [and available to appropriate!] from the Lord.
Now if only I can remember that tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
The day after Thanksgiving means different things to different people.
I suppose it’s most synonymous with crazed shopping and leftover turkey sandwiches. However, at our house, it means I can officially listen to Christmas music in the open without fear of judgment.
No more having to quickly close itunes when someone walks in the door because I’ve been listening to Christmas music while dipping caramel apples on Halloween. No more clicking off of my Christmas mix when other folks get in the car because we’re all wearing shorts.
Finally — freedom.
In light of that, I’d like to highlight a list I outlined to FCL (i.e. French Canadian Lothario, i.e. the husband) in the car on the way to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. Of course we would NEVER commit the crime of listening to carols pre-Thanksgiving.
1. Behold the Lamb of God- Andrew Peterson and Co.
2. A Christmas Album – Amy Grant, 1980s goodness
3. Home for Christmas- Amy Grant, circa my formative middle school years 1990’s
4. Songs for Christmas- Sufjan Stevens
5. Christmas- Mannheim Steamroller
6. Joy- Ed Cash, Allen Levi, Bebo Norman
7. The Oak Ridge Boys Christmas
Certainly not claiming that this is the best, most definitive listing of Christmas albums — there’s a lot to be said for an eclectic take on the the same old, same old. But there’s a sweet, familiar comfort to participating in the same rhythms each advent season — a reminder that God’s promises in advent are just as rich, dear, real, and miraculous today as they were 2,000 years ago…28 years ago when I first heard them…and as they will be when my daughter is 28, listening to the same sweet carols in her flying car.
burlapandtwine 