Married love looks different from other kinds of love. Hopefully it looks like sacrifice and forgiveness and thinking of ways to encourage, and serve, and compliment the other, even when that’s the last thing you might feel like doing.
This week, it looked like Shawn surprising me with a pink ace bandage from the dollar store (sorry ladies, he’s ALL MINE). Forget flowers and cards, that ace bandage was everything to me. I somehow slammed my wrist into a door frame (least graceful ballet teacher of all time) and then lifting and holding an 18lb baby all day (oh, and a 26lb toddler at times) wasn’t helping matters. After working over 95 hours this week, and being on his feet all day, he still found time to stop and get me not only an ace bandage, a stunning color-of-the-year pink flamingo colored ace bandage. And not only that, he also picked up one of the finer things this life has to offer: Rice Krispie treats.
Have you ever tried to photograph an ace bandage? YOU HAVEN’T? I’m shocked. No, stunned. I thought that was something everyone had done. Please make it a priority to do at least once in your lifetime. My tips on how to photograph an ace bandage: don’t try too hard. Just find a place mat or pretty surface near a window, and “CLICK”, you’ve nailed it. And always remember, art is in the eye of the beholder. Don’t be surprised if Ace Bandage of Love is on display this summer at the The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
A few days later, before Shawn headed back for another 11 days in a row at work (he’s working extra days because he promoted his assistant manager to a store in North Dakota – yay!), he went above and beyond by sending me off on a quiet trip for one to urgent care to x-ray my wrist. I brought a coconut La Croix and read magazines in the waiting room. It really was like a mini vacay. He rocked Shilo to sleep and put Noella in her pjs, all while slicing mangos to dehydrate. Thankfully my wrist wasn’t broken, just a bad sprain coupled with some tendinitis. I have to wear a lovely black Velcro arm brace. It’s so summer ’19 and I bet you wish you had one too. We had a La Maison date night and meal prepped in our kitchen while listening to The Messengers station on Pandora. We were both tired, me a gimp in the kitchen trying to sauté spinach and garlic with my good hand, and Shawn wrapping bacon around chicken breasts. We were both dreading him not having a day off for 11 more days. We miss him, he misses us, and caring for the girls with a hurt hand isn’t easy. But taking a quick detour towards gratitude and we just couldn’t be more thankful for Shawn’s good job, one he enjoys, our lovely home, our two daughters, having the opportunity to stay home to raise them, amazing neighbors and friends here, and a chance to live life together.
Married love is making fun of him for wearing old man slippers in the house, and making fun of her for, well, slamming her wrist into the door frame. It’s texting each other throughout the day, it’s *trying not to make a big deal out of the little things, the quirks and habits that just are, it’s learning to think of others more than ourselves, it’s saying thank you all day long, over and over, for the big and the little things: for stirring the collard greens, putting baby in her pjs, and for the lovely flamingo pink ace bandage.
(I’m currently reading What did you Expect – Redeeming the Realities of Marriage by Paul David Tripp and it’s so good. “We don’t really have time to love our spouse, in the purest sense of what that means, because we are too busy loving ourselves. What we actually want is for our spouse to love us as much as we love ourselves, and if our spouse is willing to do that, we will have a wonderful relationship. So we try to co-opt our spouse into a willing submission to the plans and purposes of our claustrophobic kingdom of one.” Dang, Paul! It’s so true. What marriage book do you recommend, or are currently reading?)