What if You Could Go Back to the Beginning?

Hey friend,

I know that there are days when it is hard to love that spouse of yours. I know that there are moments when you don’t know how you’re ever going to make it. But I have this idea, and it just might change everything. But first, let me tell you this story.

One night, my husband and I found ourselves in the middle of another stupid argument.

I slammed our bedroom door, and threw myself across our bed like an overly dramatic character in a Disney movie. My husband followed me into our room. “What are you so upset about exactly?”

“That’s the problem! You really have no idea. Do you?” I shouted.

“I would if you told me,” He answered. “Are you really that upset about dinner? I’m sorry I said the green beans were gross, but they were. They were basically raw, and you know that I don’t like crunchy green beans. But I was eating them wasn’t I?”

“No. It wasn’t just dinner! Do you really think we are fighting about food?”

“Then, what was it?” My husband asked innocently.

And I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell him because if we are being completely honest, I would have to go back to the day that we began our relationship.

After all, that was the day that the list began. No, it wasn’t written down on paper. It was the list that I didn’t even realize I was making. It was the list of all of the times that he did something wrong, or frustrating or hurtful, and instead of addressing it, I just ignored it and added it to the pile of silent offenses.

Truthfully, at the time, I thought I was doing a good thing. I thought that I was just “letting it go” instead of making a big deal about it. Unfortunately, the way I think that I let things go, and the way that I actually let things go are two different situations all together.

Because without even realizing it, my pile of silent offenses is growing.

- The time that he chose to spend time on his phone browsing Facebook instead of talking with me.
- The time that he didn’t help me give the kids a bath because he was tired even though he knew how tired I was as well.
- The time when we first got married…
- The time when we first moved into our new house…
- The time when we were first new parents…
- The time…
- The time…
- The time…

Until there are nights like the one when he said he didn’t like my cooking, and we end up fighting about green beans – when it wasn’t the green beans at all.

It is never really about the green beans. Is it?

But, friend, what would it be like if we looked at our husbands/wives and saw nothing but love? What if we could go back to the day before they said the hurtful words, broke our trust, hurt our hearts?

What if we could tear up the list?

What would that be like to wake up and pretend like it was our first day as husband and wife… or even our first day dating each other. To wipe the slate clean and instead of responding with guarded hearts and through painful pasts… to treat each moment as if it was the very first time?

Sweet friend, you have so much love to give – and so do they. What if today you decided to just start over?

What if?

Friends, I’m taking this challenge to treat each day with my husband as if it was our first day together. How would I speak to him? How would I interact with him? Would my heart feel differently if we just started again at the beginning?

Sometimes, we can’t go back – but we can choose to start again for the sake of our marriage.

Will you join me? You can either share this post with your spouse or take this challenge without them realizing it… like a secret.

If you want to take this a step further, head on over to my facebook page where I will be sharing one challenge a day that will help us remember what it was like when we first fell in love with our spouse. You can even share this post with your friends and take the challenge together!

(Don’t tell my husband, but I started taking my own challenge a few weeks ago… and well,  just try it and see what happens in your marriage when you do. It might just be an answer to prayers.)

As always, friends,


I try and stay in touch with my readers on a personal level through social media. Share this post to pass it on, and then click here to find me on Facebook.

The Day I Stopped Saying, “I Don’t Have Time”

I bent down and kissed him on the cheek. His sister was holding one of my hands, and I was holding his new baby brother’s carseat with my other arm.

“Love you, sweet boy. You have to go into your classroom now. I will be back to pick you up after school.”

I turned to rush back towards our van. I had ten minutes to get my daughter to her preschool, before she was late also.

“Catch my kiss!” My son shouted from behind me.

I turned around and watched as he shifted his big bag up onto his shoulder, and blew an imaginary kiss towards me.

“I caught it, sweetheart! Love you! Go on into your class now.”

“You didn’t catch it!”

I hurriedly put down the carseat, grabbed at the air and put my hand to my cheek.

“Okay. Love you. Go inside now.”

I picked up the carseat and turned again to head towards our van.

“Blow me a kiss, Momma.”

“Baby, I’m out of time. I have to get sister to school too.” I blew him a quick kiss, and shouted a long a loud, “I love you! Now, go inside, baby!”

He turned and walked into the school building, and I checked my watch again.

It seems like I am always in a hurry. It seems like no matter how I order my day or plan my schedule, I am always rushing from one activity to the next.

I wish it wasn’t true. I wish that when I found few free minutes in my day that I didn’t fill them up with a million other things that do not matter. But I do.

And I rush through the things that should matter the most – like imaginary kisses blown from the sweetest four year old God ever made.

That’s what I thought about on the ambulance ride. With my son strapped down the gurney, I couldn’t help but think about the morning before.

Just 24 hours ago, I was rushing through my morning activities. If I had known that this is where I would be sitting the next day, I might have slowed down.

He hadn’t seemed sick that morning. Honestly, I didn’t even think I should keep him home from school, but after a slight fever the night before, it felt like the right thing to do.

Just before lunch, he had started to run a fever again. I gave him Motrin, but the fever didn’t respond to it. And then, out of nowhere, he started to complain that his stomach hurt.

I called our local clinic to make an appointment for him to be seen, and within minutes, my son’s simple stomach ache turned into screams of pain every time that he tried to take a breath.

I called the clinic again and told them that we needed to be seen immediately. When we arrived a few minutes later, they got us into a room, examined my son, and promptly made the decision to transfer him to Children’s Hospital.

My husband and I sat helplessly as the doctors tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He had multiple x-rays of his chest and abdomen. He had an ultrasound and a CT scan, but they couldn’t seem to find the source of infection.

They released us from the hospital at midnight with orders to follow up with our pediatrician within the next few days and said he likely had a virus and swollen lymph nodes that were causing the abdominal pain.

When my son woke up three hours later with a fever of 105.4 and abdominal pain that had returned, we rushed him back to the hospital. They ran a few more tests and decided to admit him to the hospital for observation.

Later that morning, we finally had some answers.

The report came back from the radiologist. Sitting on top of my son’s diaphragm, hiding behind his heart, was a pocket of pneumonia that had originally been overlooked. They were finally able to treat him properly.

It had been a scary 24 hours. I thought a lot while we were in the hospital. I made nervous chatter with my husband and the nurses. I talked with my son to keep him calm. I prayed.

But I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the day before. How I had tried to rush my son off to school. How I didn’t even have a few spare seconds to give extra kisses. How I wished that I hadn’t hurried so much and that I had hugged him longer.

The story could have ended differently. It could have been worse. It could have been something that required more than antibiotics.

So today, I’m taking a lesson from myself. I’m slowing down.

I’m not going to rush through the moments that matter most. I’m going to let the dishes sit in the sink, and I’m going to play legos and super heroes. I’m going to be silly. I’m going to get down on his level when he wants to tell me something. And I’m going to stop saying “I don’t have time.”

Because if I don’t have time for the people that I love, then I need to reconsider what I think is important.
I try and stay in touch with my readers on a personal level through social media. Share this post to pass it on, and then click here to find me on Facebook.

Because Let’s Be Honest, You Do More Than They Realize

“Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be just like Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Which job do you want to have? Daddy does a lot of different things doesn’t he?”

“I want to be ALL of them! I want to be a welder-man, and a firefighter-man, and a construction-man, and a city council-man, and a regular daddy.”

“Those are all awesome things! And you can be all of them! What are some of the jobs that Mommy does?”

“Well, you cook for us. That’s important… And now you can feed the baby too!”

We pulled into the grocery store parking lot, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it. Yup. In the eyes of my oldest, I am in charge of food disbursement and apparently that is all.

I guess he is partially right. I am in charge of feeding – and with a newborn – it does seem like all that I do some days. Feed the baby. Make breakfast. Feed the baby. Make snacks. Feed the baby. Make lunch. Feed the baby. Make dinner. Feed the baby, feed the baby, feed the baby. Make breakfast. It is an endless cycle of food preparation.

But honestly, there are moments that it would be nice to be noticed for more than milk.

Amiright?

I mean, at least give me some credit for the laundry. Once, I asked my son, “Where do you think all of our clean clothes come from?”

His answer?

“From that big pile in your room, Momma.”

Point proven, son. I need to get better at folding and putting away clean clothes. But… who do you think sorted, washed, dried and make sure there were clean undies for your little booty before school today?

Yup. This lady. This lady who is mostly in charge of food prep.

And while we are at it, how did you GET to school this morning?

That’s right. Your personal chauffer. I run all the local and long-distance routes. I will be taking you to school, church, doctor’s appointments, soccer practice, the park, and anywhere else you might ever need to go.

It doesn’t need to be said that being a mom is often a thankless job. It is full of long days, longer nights and endless work. And while what we do may go unnoticed, it is still important. It is still purposeful.

Because we do more than they will ever see.

No, they won’t be able to see the hours that I spent holding them when they were sick, but mommy was there.

There will be no permanent markings next to the bathtub where I have spent hours getting splashed and soaked…

If they could only see the path that I have worn from my bedroom to theirs as I stumbled to check on them in the night and ran to them when they woke-up crying my name…

There will not be any physical markings from the hours I will spend praying for them and for their future careers, spouses, children…

And their foreheads won’t show where I kissed them after they fell asleep…

There are no indentations in the carpet around the couch from all the games of chase…

And there are no worn spots on the front porch where we have sat and enjoyed all of our popsicles…

But I have been there for all of it.

And Momma, while they might not ever say thank you for all of those moments, while it might be nice to be noticed for ALL that we do for them, their tiny arms around our necks at bedtime remind us that we don’t do it for the praise. We don’t do it for the pat on the back.

We do it for them. Because we love them… Just because we love them.

So, today, as you find yourself in another school pick-up line, or checking out with their favorite snacks at the grocery store, or reading their favorite book just one more time – remember this.

You are so loved, Momma. You are so important to them. They appreciate and love you more than they know to say right now. You are responsible for calming fears. You are responsible for wiping tears. And you are responsible for making their little worlds go round.

And if no one has said it in awhile – thank you for all that you do.

 

I try and stay in touch with my readers on a personal level through social media. Share this post to pass it on, and then click here to find me on Facebook.