Thursday, April 26, 2012

Ten

Ten years of marriage.  3,653 days of learning.

Learning that he would rather eat cereal than most any meal. 
...... to button the top button on his shirts when I hang them. 
......the correct way to remove a seat belt (still working on that one)
...... to identify the sound of him gagging when the diaper is too gross
....... and getting there before it's too late
........that the draft will ALWAYS fall on our anniversary weekend. 
........ to fall asleep before the snoring begins. 
........ the art of wrinkle free sheets
........they ways he feels loved
........the delicate art of fighting fair
........to tag team the chaos

The list could go on and on.  And it will.  We will never stop learning and we will never stop needing to learn.  This thing called marriage is tough.  Ten years ago we began our lives together in a little townhouse with empty closets and little furniture.  Now, our closets are full, we've outgrown our house, and there are three little ones following us around.  This adventure has only just begun!

 Wherever this road may take us. Whatever the future holds. I am glad I get to walk it with you.  No one else would make it worth the ride.  No one.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Enough

I'm having one of those life events that make you want to throw up and cry all at the same time.  Not that anything is actually "wrong".  I'm just so scared of the unknown that I can barely think straight.  For weeks I have been praying that God would make himself known.  That it would be unavoidably obvious the direction we should go.  Yet, the minute that God does something HUGE.  Something completely unexpected and totally obvious.  I FREAK out.  I have no peace.  Seeing the path is no longer good enough.  Now I want the destination too.  I want to see the whole staircase, not just this step.  How quickly I disregard his direction.  My fear and anxiety over the unknown overshadow the gift of known.  Nothing is ever enough. 

This afternoon I drove through town with two little ones giggling in the backseat and I poured my heart out. I sang through my sobs and I laid it down.  At his feet.  Where it belongs.  He has this, I don't.  He knows the destination.  I am only asked to walk the path.  He is my portion.  Nothing is impossible for Him.  He holds my world in His hands.

I'm going to need to revisit this post many times in the next few weeks (and the rest of my life for that matter).  And I will have to lay it down EVERY day, because He's more than enough for me.