Since It’s Rude to Point…

I don’t have one at all.

No point, whatsoever. But I haven’t written a pointless post in quite some time, so I’m due.

Michael is down for the count. He came home from working out of town today and didn’t feel well, so the kids and I just finished our two episodes of Duck Dynasty and they headed off to bed.

Remember how I said that I have to talk at night to decompress from the day?

Lucky you.

When Michael feels bad, I am completely at a loss on how to help him. I know just enough medical information to be dangerous. I gave him ibuprofen and told him I loved him and left him in the dark. Considering he’s the man who wrapped his arms around me and quoted scripture to me during my epidurals, and held my hair back when I’ve had a stomach bug…I feel like I probably shortchanged him.

Next month is his birthday. It’s so weird to think that he’s almost thirty-nine. I still picture him as nineteen, which is when I met him. Gosh, we’ve been friends for twenty years. We talked about that Monday night. We are both so much the same as we were then, but we’re also both so different. Our basic personalities haven’t changed. I’m talkative, extroverted and silly. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and hardworking. We have both been those things all our lives, but we’re both so different now in so many other ways. We’ve matured together, and for that I’m thankful.

The story of how we got together still amazes me. I will say to anybody that you just never know what God has in store. Michael and I were good friends. He was the nicest guy I’d ever known. I didn’t think I would, or deserved to marry the nicest guy I knew. But I did.

In the last few months, there have been some great men that have meant a lot to my family that have gone to be with Jesus. They leave behind beautiful, loving wives who are grieving. I think of them, and the love they shared and the life they lived together and it makes me want to be a better wife. A better supporter. A better friend. A better homemaker. True Christ-following men are becoming harder to find in this world, and I have been given the opportunity to be married to one. I want to give my best so that he has everything he needs to be the husband, father, friend and worker God called him to be.

I promise we have rough days. There are lots of times when we aren’t really crazy about one another. I’ve written a couple of posts that make it sound like it’s sunshine and roses around here all the time. It’s not. We’re as human and messed up as anybody could be. We are sinners, and grateful every day for our Savior.

We just try really hard to make home the best place to be. It’s safe here. Nobody makes fun of you or talks down to you. That’s at the top of our unwritten house rules. No matter what you look like, smell like, say or do…you can come home and be loved here. Another one of our unwritten rules is that you have to dance in the kitchen while cooking supper.

Continuing with my whole theme of not having a point…I’ve been making wish lists of places I’d like to go with just Michael. We haven’t been on a trip by ourselves in years, and we still have a horrible honeymoon to redeem. I’ve suggested cities we haven’t been, scenic places…but my top choice was DisneyWorld. I think it would be a blast to go by ourselves. Michael said it would cause way too much emotional damage to our children, so that’s off the list. I don’t know why they’d have to know, but he insists that they’d never get over it and become adults who need therapy because we took a trip to Orlando without them.

See? It’s not all sunshine and roses. Which is why Disney needs to be an option. It’s the happiest place on earth.

But you know what’s NOT the happiest place on earth? Home, when you tell your kids where you went without them.

Yeah, that breaks that unwritten rule about home being safe and loving, I suppose. I don’t think Michael and I would ever be safe if we did that. We’d have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of our lives.

Speaking of sleep, I need to do that. Thanks for letting me talk. I promise, once Michael’s back on his feet, you’re off the hook.










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