The Every Day V-Day

It's 4pm and I'm well aware that within 10 minutes the quiet in the house will be replaced with jostling story-telling children leaving wet boots, snowpants and all manner of miscellaneous accoutrements all over the used-to-be-clean mud room floor. They will be competing with each other to tell me the latest and most amazing parts of their day (or tattling on each other) and in doing so, I guarantee that a fist-fight will almost break out in their haste to beat the other to the best parts of their day.

I know this will happen. It always does - in a Groundhog Day sort of way. No matter how many times I sit them each down and give them separate time to talk to me, they feel they've got to push their way to the front and be first. 

So the best part of my day comes when I see my tall man fill the back entry. The cavalry has arrived! He wraps me in his giant hug and I'm taken back to our 3 months of dating. He gave me a hug every time he came to pick me up to bring me back to Michigan. His soft flannel shirts and his musky deodorant and Dove soap combined to sear my memory with the smell of "home". He is and will always be my home. Even though, I'm physically standing in our house with our three little people clamoring for our attention (at that very second trying to push us apart as we stand together)... I am satisfied knowing my best friend is with me so I am home. 

With tomorrow being V-day, this love and marriage stuff is on my mind. I've come to the conclusion that Valentine's Day is quite honestly a horrible day. I know, I know, I can almost see your fist full of candy hearts ready to toss at me... but hear me out. 

It sets up husbands with unrealistic expectations. Then it gives wives a rotten rollercoaster ride. Is he gonna remember what day it is?? Maybe! Maybe he's got a secret getaway planned for us!! Then she tells herself that whatever happens will be fine. But she knows it really won't be. On the flip side for the hubbys, it almost gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card. If they can nail a seriously romantic Valentine's Day, they've got brownie points saved up for a rainy day. Who cares about doing the stuff around the house she needs done every day: help with homework while she gets dinner ready, connect and listen to the kids when a game is on, wrestle with those crazy balls of energy when the Xbox is calling his name... why bother?! "She's good because I took her out and wow'd her."

The Every Day Valentine's Day is completely lost with that kind of idea and obligatory compulsion we place on our men. 

What is the Every Day V-day, you ask?! Let me tell you! 

It's the man who puts in a couple loads of laundry just because. He makes sure my van has good safe tires and is properly maintained. He even cleans a toilet or two. He takes care of his mom by starting her car just before she leaves so she can get in a warm vehicle. He bathes the three dirty monsters while I finish cleaning up after dinner. He always finishes whatever project/work stuff he's got going by 9pm so we can sit together and talk. That same man will give a "hog back ride" to all who wish one on their way to bed. (We don't have a piggy in our house; we have a hog. When Jonny was little, he'd stand at the top of the stairs and holler "Hey HOG!" so he could get his ride!)  He makes the best coffee every. blessed. morning! He listens to me. Even when I don't make sense. He encourages me to enjoy the moment and laugh in the crazy. He prays with each child every night and tells them a story or sings them a silly song from his imagination. He makes sure my debit card has enough for our needs. He gets excited over my good deals. It is the simple. The daily. 

As all marriages can attest, sometimes it doesn't 'feel' romantic and all that jazz. But it's not just candlelight and roses and quiet dinners that rates (or should rate) on the romantic scale but doing life together... diapers, laundry, work, frustrations, kids, family, love, honesty. That's true romance. 

It's hard work to be intentional; not allowing electronics and time to creep up on you but creating that space for talk. Date nights out don't happen every month like I would prefer, but we have time every single night that we sit together and talk. We talk about life outside of kids and we talk about kids: Can you believe the House raised the debt ceiling?! Did I tell you what Jonny said?? (He was frustrated with something and said,"oBAMA!" Then looked up at me and said, "That's a bad word isn't it, Mommy?" He thinks anything you say in frustration is a bad word. By that point, I was laughing so hard!!!!) Crazy what damage a sinkhole can do when it's under the National Corvette Museum! What IS Billy Ray Cyrus thinking bringing back that insane song Miley style?! Yeesh! I tell him about the Common Core curriculum and Matt Walsh's blog... and all the crazy FB thread comments and we land with thankfulness for our wonderful ZPS and West Michigan bubble. 

Sometimes it is simply laughing; inside jokes and sideways glances and even body noises! He has always said you have to be able to laugh when your spouse lets one rip. :) At dinner, it starts with one of the kids (usually Jonny the Ham) doing/saying something bizarre and then I find myself laughing. They keep laughing so I laugh harder until it's just one big Laugh Fest! Laughter truly keeps balance in the middle of a dinner with particular palates and a frustrated cook. 

One of my favorite things in the whole world is looking across the table at my best friend and catching his eye knowing we're in this together. Absolutely nothing beats it! No romantic weekend (however nice) beats out the day to day shoulder-to-shoulder blood sweat and tears of life together. We have each other's back and that's a good start to our future. 

So, let's take Valentine's Day off *our* calendar and remember the Every Day V-day. :) 

It's better for your marriage! 

Our Relationship - Part 2

Here's Part 2 - Enjoy!!  If you missed Part 1 - here's a link.

Back at home, I gave up on the end-of-July-job-thing in favor of preparing for the upcoming school year. Knee deep in lesson plans and copies of worksheets, I got an email from my traveling buddy. She told me that she’d gotten an email from Mike asking her for my contact information. She wasn’t sure what to tell him and I was scared out of my mind that a guy was actually interested in me. So after a week of indecision, I finally emailed her back to tell her to give him my email.

He emailed me a very cordial note and in the third person tells me about how he met a really neat girl at the campout and wondered if she was interested in getting to know him better. I obviously was able to put two and two together by this point, but seriously - the third person??!   I emailed him back in kind. I told him that there were lots of really neat girls there and I wasn’t sure which one he was referring to. I wasn’t prepared for the list he sent me of all the things he had noticed about me that weekend!

I replied that he would need to talk to my dad in order to date me - figuring that he’d turn tail and run. Nope. That man kept on pursuing me! He even conspired with my father to surprise me by showing up on our family vacation. On that vacation, my dad unknowingly threw down a gauntlet. He told Mike, an engineer, that courtship is the only biblical model for premarital relationships. Telling an engineer that there is only one way to do something is one surefire way to discover at least 3 more ways to do it!

They agreed to research their ideas and come prepared to discuss their findings on Labor Day. Yes, indeed! That man of mine wrote an eight page paper to prove to my father that God does not specify a formula for a relationship. Rather, He states very clearly what a godly man or woman is to look like!  My indomitable father pointed out that he would still call it courting even though we considered ourselves dating. Yeah. Can you see one other facet to complicated relationships?? Parents contribute their issues as well.

To refresh my memory, I just dug out my ½ inch thick folder of emails we traded the first few weeks we began to know each other. Rereading them took me far, far down memory lane! I remember how I felt more comfortable conversing in letters and keys rather than voice. We’d begun to call each night for a couple of hours – depending on our schedules. School hadn’t started yet so I had flexible evening hours. It was obvious to both of us that we each wished it were more like 4 hours – and sometimes it was!  We just couldn’t talk enough! He seemed to intrinsically understand me and vice versa. We even finished each other’s thoughts.

For me, in those first conversations, it was scary how deeply my father-relationship issues affected our relationship. There were times while talking through hard memories, I didn’t know what to say or be afraid to say what I really felt. He simply allowed the silence on the phone and waited. He told me over and over that I was worth the wait. I had never felt more cherished.

Long distance relationships are not easy nor are they uncomplicated – though I’d like to point out that no relationship is uncomplicated! We learned to hear each other’s heart as we spoke over the phone. Both of us were sold out to God and open for His leading. We were very careful to go forward in the relationship with a clear purpose.

God answered our prayers; making it very clear to us as well as those around us and close to us that we were made for each other. That phrase has gotten rather raggedy and tired after being used in far too many chick-flicks. What I mean here is that we’re better suited for God’s purposes together than apart. What’s the point of a relationship? Marriage. What’s the point of casting off a life dedicated to serving God as a single person? Being used MORE as a married person. Relationship has a very clear purpose in God’s eyes. We are made to glorify Him – and Him alone. If you will not be glorifying Him more by being married to this person, then you need to reconsider.

Time began to be a factor in both of our lives; mine as a teacher and his as a busy engineer. We both quickly realized that we needed to set guidelines so we could keep our commitments to others as well as get to know each other more. A schedule was put in place of calling certain days and emailing the between days. It was hard to keep, but we managed. Absence certainly did make the heart grow fonder, as the saying goes.

After Labor Day, we added the dating aspect. Each weekend, depending on our plans, Mike drove 4 hours to my apartment to pick me up and bring me back to Michigan. This scenario brings me to the next critical part of any relationship. We made Physical Contact Guidelines and circulated them to the people around us so we would be held accountable. Both of us were in our upper-twenties, we were head-over-heels in love with each other, and we both wanted God’s best for this relationship. That meant self-control. It’s easy to justify a little bit here and a little bit there, but before you know it, you’re in bed and scary-close to crossing sacred lines.

We talked openly and very honestly about our pasts and what we wanted to include in the guidelines. I didn’t have much of a past, except that I knew my love language was physical touch. He did have a past and some regrets, but he was determined to do this God’s way. The guidelines will be very unique to each couple and their areas of temptation. It was very important to Mike that he not make promises he couldn’t act on. For example, he decided that we would refrain from saying “I love you” until there was a proposal and ring. I decided that we wouldn’t kiss until then. I’d never kissed anyone before so it was very special to him that he was my first and only.

We held hands and learned more from listening to each other than touching. It was good. It was also very hard. I don’t think I’ll ever know how hard it was for my man, though. He told me once that he could never let his guard down. It would be far too easy to give in to his feelings if he did.

Then one day, the day after Thanksgiving 2002 to be precise, he and I went for a drive to a nature preserve called Volo Bog in Northern Illinois. It was cold but not much snow on the ground yet. The sky was gray and overcast, but we walked the boardwalks over the spongy bog and enjoyed the occasional bird call. We came full circle to a large grove of evergreens. Those gorgeous trees had to be 15 feet tall, but the bottom 8 feet of their trunks were bare to give room for bog trekkers to relax on wood benches and take in the view over the bog.

It was here that we stopped to rest and sat shivering together. My heart almost stopped when he got down on one knee right there and opened the book he’d had inside his coat. It was a Bible. He opened it and read to me from Genesis 2, Ephesians 5, and Ecclesiastes 4. As he closed the Bible, he told me he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. Then he showed me the cover where he’d imprinted my new name in gold letters – Ruth Lynn Verkaik. You see, my parents had given me a special Bible in 6^th grade with my name on it. That same Bible marked and underlined my spiritual journey from 6^th grade until that moment. He knew the significance of it and had seen how only a marriage based on His word will make it. As I saw that cover and heard him ask me to be his wife, I just balled – happy tears of course! He slipped the ring on my finger while I tried to see it through my tears. He already knew my answer. J By this time, we both were so cold we could hardly stand. We headed back to his car and then to my apartment where we kissed for the first time.

As we headed back to my parents house to share the news and begin the rollercoaster ride they call “planning a wedding”, I couldn’t help but look over at the tall blue-eyed man driving and think, “Wow! I get to be his wife!

God, you are too good to me!” Never did I think on that campout, we’d be getting married one year to the day later!

As for long-distance relationships, they can work. But remember, God has to be the author of the relationship for it to work. Let God write your love story. 

He’s the best Author I know!

A Letter to Myself of 9 years ago...

Dear Ruth,
Tonight as you celebrate your birthday and make the final preparations for your wedding tomorrow, here are some things to remember...

-The white runner is meaningless and unnecessary.
-Running across Holland in a frantic frenzy to pick up KFC for the rehearsal dinner is a good time to stop, take a deep breath and be present in the moment.
-Look deep into those blue, blue eyes that caught your attention 1 year ago and remember that no matter what you are in this together joined forever by God!
-Even when "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" is censored by the pastor, still enjoy the moment. :)
-Marriage isn't a journey for your happiness. It's a journey to be more like Jesus. That will mean a lot of things over the next 9 years, but know that very powerful and loving Hands are holding you tight through it all.
-FYI - your first night together is nothing compared to 9 years of learning each other! ;)
-Your convictions are not always a stiff as you think. Some are actually preferences. :)
-Savor the freedom of a childless midnight drift run in December as well as the quiet peace of camping together without 3 towheaded alarm clocks.
-Be ready to embrace the world through the eyes of a talkative 2 year old little girl! Be impressed with every "find" that little boys bring to show you - every bug, snake, and worm.
-You will find yourself shocked at how your heart will feel full to bursting with love for your man as he bends down to play and pretend with those little people.
-Encourage him and remind him how much you are thankful for what he does - not just on silly Hallmark holidays, but every single day of your life together.
-When you're looking for ministry advice, he has more to offer than you think. Following it will save you a buttload of trouble.
-Love and be present in every moment - no matter how loud or inconvenient. It will be gone in the blink of an eye.
-Your children will mirror your issues, but no amount of talking and lecturing will change them. They're looking for an example to follow - good or bad. Give them Jesus.

I know, it's a lot to remember... but the next 9 years will be easier if you do. :)

Now, get back to that rehearsal! Oh... and don't be surprised if your father and his father skip down the aisle during the ceremony. 

Sincerely,
Yourself - a bit older and wiser.

Tunnel Living

Ever been in a tunnel? Ever felt like you’d never come out – no matter how fast you raced toward what you thought was the other end? Ever wish you could magically make the tunnel go away – maybe even pretend that you weren’t in one?!

I have.

I’ve been in a tunnel for a long time but the road out began 10 years ago.

July 19, 2002

I met a man named Michael Verkaik and my life was never the same again. He pursued me because he was convinced that I was the woman God had for him. He obeyed the prompting of my Father and rescued me.

A few nights ago, I confessed to Mike that our 9 years of marriage have been very difficult. His face told me he wasn’t sure what to say so I continued: the hardest part was dealing with myself and my junk.

He has been an amazing friend, husband, lover, and protector, but I came loaded with rotten baggage from my past - baggage that has dragged down our relationship. It has been excruciatingly painful to deal with, but so worth it.

If you would’ve asked me before we got married if I had baggage to deal with, I would’ve laughed and confidently replied, “No. I have all the tools I need to deal with whatever comes.”

5 vehicles, 4 jobs, 3 pregnancies – 1 being a complete surprise, 2 churches, and 1 amazing God!

Throughout all that time, I didn’t even know I was in a tunnel because the ceiling looked just like the bright outdoors. I kept on being a wife, a mom, a church member and a children’s ministry leader the only way I knew – confidently. I felt nagging doubt in my inner being but kept plowing away – not sure what to do.

Well, it’s true what they say: a tunnel is scary dark just before you see the light... the light of an oncoming train, that is.  That day when we got the phone call about my father’s heart attack… the day when I mailed a very difficult but hopeful letter to him… the day he rejected all I had to say… the day my mother joined him…

Those things would’ve pushed me right over were it not for the little lessons my Father had been teaching me about His love. What it means for Him to love me. How much He loves me – even beyond what I do. How what I do matters, but His love sees past even that. That the hard circumstances I encounter are not His disapproval but His grace in my life. That His love is anything but soft – it’s rugged enough to withstand the cross and my ugly sin. That to wish my life had been different would be a tragedy. My very person would be forever changed without those scars. He has taken those hard things and redeemed them – even made them beautiful in His eyes.

Praise God we don’t have to hide scars
They just strengthen our wounds, and they soften our hearts.
They remind us of where we have been, but not who we are
So praise God, praise God we don’t have to hide scars!

(Jonny Diaz - Scars)

I lift my arms to my Abba! He shows me every single day what it means to call Him Daddy.

I am surrounded by His grace… for every moment… in every moment.

While I’m sure life will have more “scary-dark” moments, I am no longer in a tunnel because I know my Father has my hand and I will dance confidently because He loves me!

40 years and beyond!

Thanks to genetics, my little girl and I are yearly visitors to the eye doctor. As this year's appointment rolled around, we walked in and saw a sweet elderly couple waiting for their appointment. We sat down, found a fun book and looked at it together while we waited.

A few moments later, I overheard the following conversation...

Elderly wife - (loudly) There's magazines over here!
Elderly husband - (largely ignores her)
W - (a bit louder) There's MAGAZINES over here!
H - (loudly) What?!
W - (raising her voice a bit more) MAGAZINES!  There's MAGAZINES over here!!
H - (still louder) Why?
W - (holding firm her decibels) to READ that's WHY!
H - (evidently, finally understanding the conversation) What's your point?!!!

I tried to chuckle quietly to myself, thinking how they were quite possibly portraying Mike and me in 40 years. The more I thought about it, the harder I wanted to laugh! They were so cute together - when they weren't talking!

There he sat in the waiting room while his bride went in for her eye exam... waiting... while his eyes closed... but he loved her enough to be her protector, friend and companion. It would never occur to him to let her go by herself so he could do something else.

That's Mike. That's what he does for me even now. I love him so much! God willing, 40 years and beyond... I am going to enjoy every tear and chuckle and outright guffaw along the way!

Someday, I'm sure, when it's down to just us, I'll see a mom with a little girl reading a book together in a waiting room and it will remind me to offer a magazine to Mike... :)

The Houghtons - Part 2

As she gets into her slightly rusty little car, Gracie tries valiantly to put the whole mess out of her mind.  With the words - “Ann’s waiting for me.” - a smile grows until it covers the sadness on her face. 

The two girls met when they were 15; each watching their siblings. They hit it off that day and 19 years later… here they were - friends through thick and thin. Gracie supposed this may be one of those thin times. Somehow the thin and thick times seemed to alternate between them; so when one was hurting the other was right there to help – even if that help was just a tearful silence when no words needed to be said.

She knew Ann would have perspective. She had been through her own dark waters and as a result, the depth of her relationship with her God was something Gracie could not yet understand. Out of everyone Gracie could think of, Ann would have the guts to speak wisdom into this mess. Not to mention, encourage her to stick to her vows – whether or not it was the comfortable and easy thing to do. Gracie wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.

The half hour drive to Ann's gave her plenty of thinking time. She resists the urge to get out her cell phone and chat with her mom while she drove. As the road stretches on and the tires pound out their rhythm, “Why?” tap dances around in her brain.  Why did it take this kind of drastic measure to get his attention? Why did she have to be the one to do it? Why couldn’t someone who had her husband’s ear remind him that his marriage came before his ministry? That, in fact, it was his marriage that validated his ministry.

She was to be his helper and rate before his other obligations. She was intensely proud of him and his accomplishments. Gracie loved to see the little church growing and reaching out spurred on by how God spoke through her husband. Why did it feel lately that God wasn’t in this anymore? The doing of ministry has become a duty not a joy. She could hardly admit this even in the quiet of her car. It felt traitorous somehow. It was her job to support her husband. There were plenty of others who said what they liked however they liked without thought for the recipient.

She turned her mind from the depth of those dark questions and allowed it to walk down sweeter memories. The day they met. Ahh! What a day! She was working at the campus café serving the students and employees their coffee and whatnot. He’d been in line openly staring at her, making her friends giggle and whisper. Oblivious to his stares, she waved goodbyes to her friends.

As she turned to the next customer, she discovered the strangest looking guy she’d ever seen. He had large bug eyed goggles on his face accented by a bright orange jumpsuit hauling a large black bag and 5 gallon bucket that was stamped with the universal poison sign. “Alrighty then. Whatever floats your boat”, she said to herself. 

To him, she asked, “What can I get for you?” All he could get out was uh and a few stammers. Then he got ahold of himself and told her that he wasn’t there for food, but on a job assignment from Phys Plant. Evidently, he needed to do the monthly insect population reduction procedure. Gracie laughed to herself now. Thinking how silly he was to come to the cash register to broadcast their insect population issue. He told her later how her brown eyes mesmerized him not to mention her long brown hair. He wasn’t so bad once he took off the goggles and orange suit! Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered how in their first conversation she tried desperately to keep on point, but her mind kept wandering as she looked in those deep blue eyes of his.

Gracie smiled. Peter talked and talked. He’d asked her a million and one questions. She remembered feeling like she was the most important person in his world. He wanted to understand her, get her opinion, learn the way her mind works, share his world with her… bottom line: he loved her.

She couldn’t deny that she still loved him either.

Sweet memories! How did they get so far away from there?! Ministry had sucked the life out of their marriage. How do they get back their close friendship with all the water under the bridge - water which, to Gracie, seemed to be more like the Mississippi River than a little trickle.

As she disconnected her auto-pilot driving, she realized that she was almost at Ann’s, her oasis. She was barely out of the car before her dear friend had run out and given her a hug. Gracie felt a small glimmer of hope that maybe this wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Just maybe, she and Peter might get through this – together.

The Houghtons - Part 1

It was dark, but not as dark as Peter Houghton felt. He walks the few blocks to the parsonage from the church wondering what crisis awaits him next.

His quiet suburban church of one hundred was beginning to fall apart at the seams. With each crunch of the January snow, he wonders again. Was this really where God lead him? Or had he just wanted it so badly he’d made it happen. He’d been working so much lately – easily 80 hours a week. Between preparing his sermon and the nitty-gritty details of running a one-pastor-church, he didn’t have much time left for Gracie at the end of the day. It seemed that the more he worked and tried, the less things happened and the more ornery people became. Wasn’t the blessing of God supposed to be on the work of God? How could the work of God be playing mediator to the contentious deacons who jostled for lead position? Shouldn’t four years of ministry yield more than a few members? “Members?!” he thought, “Don’t get me started!” What kind of members come only when they feel like it? What is it with this new generation, anyway?! Can’t they commit to anything??”

His heart sinks lower and lower as he trudges on toward home.

As he gets closer, he can see the lights and the form of his wife as she waits anxiously in their living room. He glances at his neighbor’s house and their immaculately blown driveway with the tidy garage housing two late-model Hondas.  Peter finds himself wishing that for once his neighbor wasn’t so perfect. Really?! Couldn’t he just fall on his rear or else something equally humiliating when he’s outside getting the mail? As he wrestles with the door, it hits him again: his neighbor would never have a door that scraped the floor instead of swinging freely. Finally! He grunts, Door – 0, Man – 1! Ha! He walks into the living room feeling somewhat triumphant after his long day.

His wife has been waiting. Her suitcase shouts the words she’s never had the nerve to say. Second place, leftovers and just hanging on and hoping for a break in the storm is not living. She has been faithful and shouldered with him the responsibilities of ministry and marriage, but unfortunately it’s been in that order. She’s been put last, unimportant. Her arms ache to hold little ones of her own, yet she's the one to organize the multitude of baby showers for others. The last thing she wants is to hurt him, but she knows something needs to change. She’s hoping for a miracle.

He takes in the scene and her pleading look. The ton of bricks slams him to the couch. He sits there stunned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that this has been coming for a long time. The only thing he can think of to say is, “Gracie, I’m so sorry.”  She reassures him that the nasty D-word is not in her thoughts, but she must take some time alone to seek God. She’s struggling to keep from casting the blame squarely on his shoulders. “Pete, we are heading down a road littered with the wrecks of ministry marriages. If we are not careful, we’ll crash and burn too. I love you too much to just give up and not try.” Looking into his eyes, she sees his hurt and her eyes blur. As the tears stream down her face, she picks up her suitcase and walks out the front door.

Gracie is thankful for the darkness as she loads her suitcase into her little car. At least the neighbors will have to wait until the morning to “discuss” her leave-of-absence. So much of their life was about what others thought. Ugh. What an awful existence! Can’t wear dress pants to church because she’s the pastor’s wife. She’s got to set the example. Yeah. Sure. The example… is that all she is?? So how many others are showing up to play piano, teach sunday school, help in the nursery, glowingly listen to her husband preach (he’s not all that great, honey), keep a stiff-upper lip when the old biddies get to gossiping about why she isn’t pregnant yet, smile generously when her husband is called away on some emergency on his day off when they had planned a date night… she could feel her blood pressure rise. She didn’t know if she even wanted to be a pastor’s wife anymore. 

To be continued... 

Credit: Getty Images/Stockbyte Silver

What I've learned about Valentine's Day

It is about expectations. Good and bad. If you’re expecting a spa day and a romantic getaway just the two of you and instead you get a card, then you’ll be down in the dumps until your brain disconnects from your hormones.

This used to be my routine each year. I’d have all these “hopes” that he would do for me – and be dashed to the rocks when he didn’t come through. But what I failed to realize then was all the little things he does everyday for me.

Little things like: driving my van to make sure its got gas and running well, making breakfast for dinner when I’m tired of cooking, putting the kids to bed after a stressful mommy day, sitting and talking with me after the kids go to bed, bust-a-gut-laughing as we watch Bones together, taking care of me and making sure I stay off my knee while it heals, doing laundry and putting it away, tidying the toys, washing the kitchen floor on his hands and knees, reading to the kids, Special Story Time (family devos), rubbing my feet…and the best one… his example to our little girl and little boys.

Case in point:  Dinnertime was approaching so Mike asked Michael to get his sister from her friend’s house. He hops on his bike and rides like the wind. Sitting on the couch, I have a perfect view of them returning. Michael rides a few yards then stops and waits for her. The rollerskates she originally thought were a great idea now are not as she has to stop and rest from the exertion it takes to rollerskate on winter roads with gravel/dirt deposits from the plow. He continually rides up a little ways and stops for her. They are on the homestretch when I see her put her hands on her hips and give him a little lecture. I can only imagine what she’s saying. So Michael just rides on home and comes inside. A few minutes later, he whirls back around and races out to the road. Mike and I look at each other and then out the front window. We see him ride out to her and ride with her the few extra yards it takes her to get to the driveway.

As Mike’s making pancakes, Michael commences to tell him how it’s the boys job to protect girls. Mike agrees but Chloe begins to protest. She insists that she is bigger than Michael and does not under any circumstances need his help. I tell her that she may be bigger now, but someday her brother will be bigger than her and she’ll be so thankful for him watching out for her. Michael continues. “Daddy, boys have to make sure to keep the bad guys away from the girls.”  By this point, we’re shaking and trying not to laugh out loud!

I sat there enjoying the moment and savoring the fact that we did not sit him down and lecture him on what boys should and should not do. He learned all this simply by watching the way his daddy treated me. That is the best Valentine my man could’ve ever given me! 

Now that same little boy thinks of special things he can do for me. Sunday he brought me breakfast in bed. Well, almost breakfast in bed. He’d gotten the tray out, the bowl down, cereal and milk poured. He’d carried it to our bedroom… but the bowl began to slide toward him and sloshed milk all over the tray, him and the carpet. He was so disappointed that it didn’t work. I cuddled him and reminded him that I loved that he thought to do it.

I love that my little man has begun to try to step in his daddy’s shoes. He’ll become a great man! He has an amazing example.

My tall handsome man is not the roses and candlelight dinner type, and I’m okay with that. He shows his love to me in a thousand ways every single day of the year. One day matters, but the rest of the year matters more.

Happy Valentine’s Day to my wonderful thoughtful amazing playful godly husband! I love you!