Because of the Little Things You Do…

You are constantly doing little things to take care of me and the family.

Here are a few that you did over the weekend:

  1. Decorated the house early for Christmas
  2. Made chocolate chip cookies
  3. Let me watch football
  4. Had fun on our day trip out to Augusta for our nephew’s birthday party
  5. Gave me a choice between putting the children to bed or doing dishes
  6. Let me go to the grocery store (a weird one, true, but I enjoy grocery shopping)
  7. …………. 🙂
  8. Suggested Starbucks on our drive home from Augusta (we don’t do that ever)
  9. You left a note on our mirror again, this time thanking me for letting you sleep in so much (that’s less about love and more about self-preservation)  🙂

I’m sure there were more, but I should get to work. It’s the Monday before Thanksgiving and this guy has to get some things done so he can leave early on Wednesday.

I love you!

Because You Called Me Crying…

I won’t pile on to the mass chatter about the situation in Connecticut.

But you called me crying. You called me wanting to take our family into our house and huddle up and do nothing but eat pizza and watch Clifford or Curious George or anything.

I feel like my face is twisted permanently into a near-cry. I don’t know anybody directly affected, but I do know that our daughter is five. And our boys are four.

And sometimes it seems, despite the fact that they can drive us crazy on occasion, they are the few people we run into who are so unabashedly excited about life.

And to see so many of those little hearts lost at the hands of an angry or disturbed or sad or something else person is heart-breaking.

I don’t want to crawl into his brain and figure out why. The thought scares me. And it scares me that this comes on the heels of someone else who was angry or disturbed or sad opening fire at that mall in Oregon.

I pray that we never lose sight of how wonderfully and meticulously we were created. I know this might sound trite, but if we somehow can remember that we were created with purpose and with care, will it help?

I’m clueless, but I know tonight we will eat pizza, popcorn and maybe some M&Ms. I’ll be happy to hear our children complain about not having enough of this or that or arguing over the snow-flake throw blanket or yelling at us because they want us to sit next to them and not the other son or daughter.

I love you and am thankful for your soft heart. I’m thankful that we have another day together. And I’ll be thankful for each one.

Thanksgiving Week Day 1: Your Laugh

I’ve written about your laugh before.

It’s loud, yet feminine. It’s boisterous, yet doesn’t evoke images of medieval pub scenes.

It’s probably one of the biggest reasons our DVR majors in 30 minute sitcoms vs. 1 hour crime dramas. Perhaps we’re just intellectually lazy, or perhaps I just love to hear you laugh.

When you laugh, it aligns things.  It turns a black and white day to color.

If I’m in a funk, it defunkifies me.

I tend to think that if you’re in a funk, and something funny pierces through that funk, it defunkifies you, too.

Whenever we’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch with our chips and dips and Twizzlers and Coke Zeros, watching a show, and I hear that peel of laughter from your side of sofa, I smile.

I might not get the joke, but I smile anyway.

Finally, I’m glad that you sometimes laugh at my jokes and/or silliness.  I know I’ve hit gold when your laughter morphs into a silent, bent-over frozen smile on your face.

Thanks for your laugh! I love you.