Today marks the anniversary of the day Dan and I were joined in marriage. A big day in our lives. The biggest I suppose. The day we chose to join as one and begin this life journey together.
As I stumbled down the hallway this morning in a rush to start my coffee before awakening children and beginning our day, I flicked on the light and was surprised by a vase of flowers on the counter. A simple vase from our cabinet stuffed full of yellow flowers. Simple. Yet overwhelming.
Overwhelming because they were like 2 feet long. Not trimmed. Not arranged. Not fortified with the included flower food. Just removed from the wrapping they came in and crammed in a vase with some water. They are EXACTLY what I would expect from my husband. MY husband.
MY husband is not polished, etiquette sensitive, worried or troubled. MY husband is plain, simple, average. But in an extraordinary way simply average. He would never hesitate to do whatever is needed to make whatever it is that we (his family) need (or want) possible. He works hard. He gives freely. He snores like a chainsaw. He saves his laughs for when his soul is really happy. And when he laughs, you can't help but to laugh with him. He forgives. He loves. Most importantly, he loves ME. And he probably spent some time trying to decide which package of flowers to select to stuff in that vase. And I know he made a special trip to a special store and read 15 cards to pick the one that was right for ME. He is a simple man, but complex in our marriage. OUR marriage. And I know I am blessed beyond any amount of measure.
As I looked at the flowers on the counter, I didn't even notice that there was a card and a special box of chocolates just for me placed next to them. Why you ask? Because the counter in our kitchen is the collecting space. Some would call it a breakfast bar- it has barstools on one side and is open to the kitchen on the other. On the counter this morning: a bag of special carefully selected purchases at the local drug store made by our oldest Allyson, an envelope reminding me to send in my $3 for a pumpkin donation, a letter asking for donations for a room party, an applesauce cup stuffed with dirt and appleseeds lovingly crafted by Emily in hopes of growing an apple tree, Dan's everloving styrofoam cup from the gas station (there is ALWAYS a styrofoam gas station cup on our counter thanks to this husband of MINE), a batman book of sams, a make up bag of emilys, a basket that is loaded with coupons that need my attention, the toaster and a broken time out stool.
I stood there, admiring my flowers and thinking what a flipping mess our house always seems to be. Especially this counter. And then it hit me, the perfectness of it all. Here we are, 15 years later after joining together as basically young naive kids, surrounded by the complete chaos that is our family and our lives, and I wouldn't change a single solitary thing. Not one. These fifteen years have been good to us- and I love the litter scattered all over my home that is a result of them.
And as I sit here typing this, the sound of machine guns is blazing from the TV in the living room. See- Dan is on vacation this week. Which means that he is all up in my business, screwing with my quiet time that I capture for myself every morning. And I feel like throwing the TV out onto the deck. But I won't- because it is our anniversary and word on the street is we have a babysitter tonight and we are going out for a real dinner date. Just us in a restaraunt with real plates and no playland, at least I hope. And if not- that will be perfectly perfect as well.
15 years- I am a blessed woman.