when the only reason is just because

Hey you - you who are too good to me,

An old friend since first grade called me the night before I married you and he asked me if I was sure, really sure.  Rie, are you sure you know what you're doing?

A former boyfriend came into the bridal room moments before I walked the aisle to you and asked me if I was sure I wasn't making a mistake.  Rie, are you sure this isn't a mistake?

Neither knew you.  Neither had met you.  They only knew time had been short.  

But if they had known then what my heart knew -

 I had always been replaceable - until you.

If they had known that when I was fifteen, someone - an adult - had looked at my then boyfriend and said these words to him - I guess love really is blind - about me.

And that I had carried those words around for years and let them take me places I should never have gone and that those words often marked my path and haunted my mind - until you.

Only I knew that on the night I had tried to tell you some things I didn't think I had the nerve to say,  you had fallen asleep listening - because you just didn't care, it just didn't matter.  That you had said now and to come are the only moments that matter.

Honey, my feet hurt in those eighty dollar shoes and you had seen me on our wedding day and our honeymoon had been cancelled and one of the candles wouldn't stay lit.  Remember?

We laughed through the prayer and got Allan tickled and he forgot the words to the ceremony.  Remember?

You went through the first car wash you could find and washed off the Just Married and I got mad at you and I lost the key to the cabin and you got mad at me.  Remember?

I love you.

Remember that, Okay?

When Your Heart is Beating in the Past

In a rare moment of quiet I sit at the computer to find choices for the father and daughter dance at the wedding. 

I listen to Michael W. Smith and Tim McGraw and Heartland and Lady Antebellum and Bruce Springsteen and Nick Lachey and Matthew West - and with each song I think it gets a little harder to breathe. 

From I Loved Her First to Dancing Away With My Heart to How to Say Goodbye to When You Need Me to Stealing Cinderella and This I Swear and My Little Girl - there are so many choices and every song takes a little bit more of my breath away.

I remind myself this is a joyous time and the beginning of the best years of her life.

 

 

He walks in the door and comes to the computer, her daddy, and stands not moving.  I tell him I have him three choices and he needs to listen and choose which song he wants.  I play the beginning of the first one.  He doesn't move. 

And then . . .

He walks away.  He just walks away without a word. 

Sometimes I just know my man.

Do you want me to choose it?

Yeah, you choose it.

And that is the end of that.  I'll choose, cause his heart beats with the rhythm of a daddy days away from walking the aisle with the little girl who used to ride his shoulders. 

And some things are just a little too much for a heart.

When I Don't Want Him To Know

Sometimes I think she's Izzy's personal taxi.  Actually, I know she is.

 So tonight I promised to take Emily home.  Way past my due.

 

It's dark and raining so he takes her - he really is too good to me.

 

I waited until he left to google Malaysia.

 

He'll be going in a couple of months.  There to build longhouses.

 

For 8943 days I've never been away from him for ten. 

Ten days on the other side of the world.

 

Little feet patter up and lean over my shoulder -

 

How safe is Mawasia? he reads.

 

Mommy, 'ou know Mawasia is safe.

 

And he runs to brush his teeth.

 

Now I hear in the back of the house a little tune -

 

How safe is Mawasia?  Oh, ohhhhh, how safe in Mawasia?

 

And I run to son and see him swiping imaginary sword into space of imaginary something and I say-

Hush, don't sing that.  Daddy will know I googled it.
 

What is it I don't want him to know?

 

How nervous I am?  How frightening the thought is of him being so far away?  Of him not being in America?

 

And I know this is a dream come true for him.  It would be for me.

 

Or maybe I don't want him to know how little my faith is?

 

How I'm already questioning is this right?  Him away so far?

Us being left without him?

How I wonder why my comfort can't be with him here beside me when I know there is no comfort in any place other than the place called?

For other than the place called only is restlessness.

For out of will is only restlessness and pieces missing and searching.

And I hear him stomping the rain off his shoes at the front door.  I hit the exit button and promise myself no more questioning.  No more fears of the unknown. 

For faith large only has to be as big as mustard seed. 

 

 

You Be Cary Grant, I'll Be Deborah Kerr

Remember at 1:00 in the morning in bed when we were googling favorite love songs and quotes?

Remember that I couldn't find the Cary Grant quote I love?

Found it.

-My world goes around only because of her, she's the focal point of my existence.  Everything I've ever done has either been for her or on account of her.  We've been friends as well as lovers.  If I sing in my bath it's because I know I'm going to have breakfast with her.  Without her I'd not say I'd be lost, but I certainly wouldn't be very clear in my mind.  I wouldn't know which way to turn.

-You must love her very much.

-Love and like and value.
 - - The Grass is Greener



The grass can always seem to be greener on the other side unless you are part of a circle.  Thank you for being my circle.

love you,
rie

Just Because

If something happened to the man I love I would ask three questions . . .

Who will reach the stuff in the top cabinet for me?

Who will every time give me the first bite - the still hot soft it's his favorite part too first bite - of his dipcone?

Who will roast me the perfect marshmallow?

These things done for me over twenty-four years now.  Never complaining, and only a few times hesitating on the dipped cone - only to give in.

And I'm in the middle of this little post, just a little silliness to always remind my girls how good their Daddy is to me in the little things, when my phone rings.

He is calling.

He had worked the sound booth at our church for the funeral of a just one year old baby girl.

Strangers to us.

But is anyone really a stranger in the family of God?

I hear it in his voice, how hard his morning had been, before he speaks what he had texted me an hour earlier -

That was too hard.

And I sit in the living room of an eighty year old legend.  Such a remarkable woman that even our legislative takes the time to wish her a happy birthday.  And I'm telling her about someone who really likes my Gregg, and she interrupts me to say - Who doesn't?

And for a moment I think about cracking a joke - but I feel a flush of pride and say, I know - everyone does, don't they?

So, happy There-really-isn't-anything-special-about-this-day day, darlin'.

Except that I share it with you.

Love you,

Rie

A little early . . .

Valentine's Day is right around the corner.

I'm thinking about you much lately.

About us.

About where we have been and where we are going.

I remember this little game we played with each other here a couple of years ago.

And I think of what you went through with me this past year.

I remember after it was all over asking you why we never ever - not once - said the word cancer or talked about what if.

How you kissed me right before I fell asleep and told me you'd see me soon.

Your answer -  faith.

And with your faith you gave me faith.

We made one more curve on the road to a lifetime.

And I love you.

And I love you.

And I love you.

So here again - a little early 'cause you're not expecting it -

Coming up with the top reason why I love him was hard. There were three tight runners for the number one spot.

Second runner up. He has never, and I mean never, criticized me.

Not for my clothes, or my hair, or my weight, or the house, or any of the other gazillion things he could criticize me for. Never. That's one in a million to me.

Runner-up. He loves me. For me.

Not for the me I let others see, or the me you see here, or the me I want to be. He loves me for the me I would never ever let you see. The other me. The ugly, sinful, hateful, mean, spiteful, remembering me. That melts me.

Winner. A forgiveness he granted me at one in the morning on January 11, 2009.  A forgiveness I did not deserve. Forgiveness for a secret I had kept far too long.

Icing on my cake - never, ever has he mentioned it since. That's sexy and romantic and melts me and is far more than one in a million to me. Far, far more.

Whatever the question . . . the answer is yes.

And On Your Birthday You Give Me Gift . . . again

You slept on the sofa last night. 

The thunder might scare Izzy.

I looked for you everywhere.  I looked for you in all the places I thought you should be.  I thought I had found you but was wrong.  And wrong again.

Then there you were. Love giving the tour and taking the stairs and offering your hand.

And life began.

And now years later you sleep on the sofa on your birthday.

She tries so hard and works all day to give gift without gift.  And she looks at me and worries and I reassure her it will all be good with you. 

And it has been good with you. 

We have laid together and whispered loud will our year ever come?  And you rise every morning at crack of dawn and work till tired is in your eyes.

Will there ever be just one more hour of sleep or just one break?

And the question comes on phone and I see your face and know you want to say no but will have to say yes.  And yes is spelled in sweet four letter word.

And my appreciation and love and desire for you longs long after you sleep on your birthday.

When He knitted you forty-four years ago He wove my being into every stitch.  And my being by your side is what I was searching for and I give you my hand to walk to forty-five.

And my year has come again, and again, and again.

Gift from you.

And if there ever was perfection in imperfection it is you.

Hey you - you who are too good to me,

An old friend since first grade called me the night before I married you and he asked me if I was sure, really sure.  Rie, are you sure you know what you're doing?

A former boyfriend came into the bridal room moments before I walked the aisle to you and asked me if I was sure I wasn't making a mistake.  Rie, are you sure this isn't a mistake?

Neither knew you.  Neither had met you.  They only knew time had been short.  

But if they had known then what my heart knew -

that to all the boys before I had been replaceable -

- until you.

If they had known that when I was fifteen, someone - an adult - had looked at my boyfriend and said these words to him - I guess love really is blind - about me.

And that I had carried those words around for years and let them take me places I should never have gone and that they often marked my path and haunted my mind - until you.

Only I knew that on the night I had tried to tell you some things I didn't think I had the nerve to say that you had fallen asleep listening - because you just didn't care, it just didn't matter.  That you had said now and to come are the only moments.

Honey, my feet hurt in those eighty dollar shoes and you had seen me on our wedding day and our honeymoon had been cancelled and one of the candles wouldn't stay lit.  Remember?

We laughed through the prayer and got Allan tickled and he forgot the words to the ceremony.  Remember?

You went through the first carwash you could find and washed off the Just Married and I got mad at you and I lost the key to the cabin and you got mad at me.  Remember?

August 6 twenty three years later just came and went again and I forgot - again - just like last year and the year before.  You say it first every year and pardon and forgive every year. 

It's 12:42 a.m. on August 12 and I'm saying it first -

I love you.

and

Happy 24th. 

 I said it first.  A little early - okay, a year early - but still first.

Remember that, Okay?

One Thousand Gifts . . .

This gratitude post is more than a month old.  I never hit the publish button because it felt very mine, very much mine alone. 

 Sometimes we speak of things and lose it?  Or is that silly?

Even though I know I can't lose his love, sometimes I still travel down roads of past and know I don't deserve it.

It's still dark outside.  Morning is just beginning to stream down.

He's already up.

He comes back and lies down next to me.  Right in the little space on my left with the large expanse of king empty on my right. 

He holds me and I cry.  I sit up I lie down I sit up I lie down and I ramble and I worry. 

He lets me and tells me the same words he has said over and over lately, It's gonna be alright, Rie.

He listens and then prays what I need.

And all my thousand gifts I'm listing beside us on the nightstand. 

But him I can't list.  I can't count this kind of love.  I can't give it a number or a place.

Because it just is, and I'll never understand why me.

My gratitude list continues . . .

friends to watch him at the park

small iv needles

resurrection eggs

ticked off mornings with no backlash

loving texts and emails

once again bringing extra chairs in

forgiveness and forgiving

Craig's reminder - in small things or great

a daughter's servant heart

My list, #'s 641-649.

My First Cell Phone Conversation Ever

Monday night I met with dear friends of mine to plan the rest of our homeschooling year.  Dear friends, good food - and a conversation that reminded me of my love at home, waiting for me.  Plans had been made for my return.

We ladies began discussing cell phones.  Which always makes me remember my first cell phone conversation ever. 

We're talking of marriage today over at Ann's.  Her post is beautiful.  Mine is not beautiful, no words that will sing to your soul.  But it's fun, and it carries me back to the folds of days past, which makes it beautiful to me.  Days when my eyes first beheld - him.  The man who would capture my heart and never let go.

It's a repost from the archives.  But I hope you enjoy again . . .

I dropped my cell phone today, for the hundredth time, in the rain even. One of these days when I have to tell He's Too Good To Me that I drop my phone - often - and on that occasion it will have passed on to gadget heaven, I will remind him that he loves me.

I remember my first car phone experience. I thought car phones were for those kind of people. You know the ones - $$$$.

The first car phone call I ever received was from He's Too Good To Me, February 26, 1988 - A day after meeting him. Remember this post? Pillow Talk.

There was a lot of static and background noise on the mobile phone and this was the conversation.

"This is Marie."

"Hey, this is Gregg, we met yesterday at the Groves' house."

my heart skips

chit chat

"Where are you?"

"In the truck."

"How are you calling me?"

"From the mobile."

"What mobile?"

"The mobile phone in the truck."

chit chat while I'm thinking to myself . . .

I thought car phones were for those kind of people.  Is he one of those kind?  mmmm . . . $$$.  If he is, this is good.  Looks, chivalry, and $$$. 

My ship has come in, my boat is floating, my cookies have been frosted, my fancy has been tickled, my need has been met, my . . . 

"What? Oh, I can't tonight. I've got supper at my sister's."

"Can I come?"

What? Did he just invite himself? Rude. But . . . mobile . . . my . . .

"Sure, I guess, if you'd like."

say you'd like, say you'd like

"Yeah, and afterwards we could go see a late movie."

Heart flutters, knees weak.

chit chat - time, directions, etc.  Do you have money?  To myself, I said that to myself.  Gimme a break.

At the end of that evening when he opened the car door for me and I got out he picked me up and carried me to the front porch and kissed me perfectly.

Girls, I don't recommend this. Don't kiss on the first date. String 'em along a little.

Fast forward two weeks to March 10, 1988.

"Will you marry me?"

Sure - you gorgeous, chivalrious, absolutely penniless guy with your dad's mobile phone.

"Yes"

Love you honey - by the way, I dropped my phone in the rain.

I'm Falling In Love - Part 2

Continued from yesterday . . .

His jaw clenches and the little vein below his right eye is swollen- the way it does when he is thinking hard.  Him thinking hard always means he is talking little.

And then he says it.  He says what will make me cry.

I fall more - without a net . . .


When the man I love was young, barely eighteen but still eighteen, he made a bad decision.  He chose to take what did not belong to him.  He chose to steal.  Felony.  The word and the memory and the consequences have followed him to this day.  The part of his life he chose to destroy God chose to use to make him a better man.

We can't take Natasha, this Natasha or any other like her.  Orphans can't find their way into our family this way. 

But this man I love is beautiful.

And there are other ways.  God always makes a way.


Our food comes. Hot toast, eggs, bacon, and grits. He takes my hand and thanks God. He asks for wisdom in this decision. He begs to stay in His will.

We eat while I feel helpless to decide and his jaw clenches. 

I want to scream to everyone around me that he deserves more than what is in this envelope.  That he deserves more of a truck than this is going to buy.  That the callouses are from years and years of hard work.  I want to scream that he doesn't have the motorcycle or the boat or the four wheeler.  He just has four children and this wife he allows to stay home.

And then he says it . . .

Rie, I know what to do.  I'm going to buy the other truck and we are going to give the thousand dollars to help bring Natasha home.

The tears fall.  They start so quickly and I take my orange juice and drink.  I can't stop them.  I can't speak.  I drink juice again.  I hope the burn of the acid in my throat will stop the tears. 

He never says a word.  He sits and lets me cry while the city of Amite eats breakfast all around me.  Orders are shouted out and coffee is poured and I cry while he quietly waits.  

I kiss him out of the corner of my mouth.  I can't look at him.  I'm falling hard and I didn't think there was anywhere left to fall.  There is no net and I fall deep into his love and if I look I won't be able to catch myself and I'm wondering how far can a woman fall for a man? 

He was listening last night.  He was listening as I rambled on about what was weighing my heart and as I desperately tried to get his mind off worry and make conversation for a two hour trip with a man that is sometimes content to be too quiet.  A man that needs a work truck to feed his family and knows the cash in that envelope is not enough. 

A man with concern.  And God spoke and he listened and the worry flew like the wind.

The orange juice doesn't help and I take his hand and we walk out.  I know his mind is made up and he will find a way to make it work and I proudly fall. 

What we cannot do we can help others do.  God spoke it to him and he listened.  In spite of my noise he was quiet and heard the voice of God.

He is taking less to give more.  This world screams move forward and my love chooses to go backwards as my love falls further.


Natasha

I pray so many things for her.  Not the least is that she may fall one day into a man as good as the one who is loving less so he can be one small vessel in her fighting chance. 

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.  Proverbs 31:8,9

Our Adoption Journey

I'm Falling In Love

He's Too Good To Me crosses the intersection on his green light and is hit hard.  She tries to stop, he sees it all over her face, but there was nothing either could do.

It's after midnight days later as we pull into the hotel.  I'm telling him about Natasha, how she needs a home in our country.  How friends of ours would like to bring her home. 

I tell him about Kristen and her trip to Africa.  How she can't keep her stuff now and struggles daily with a heart breaking for what she knows.  How she and her family are covering their refrigerator with Compassion children.

Is he listening?  I'm not sure.  He nods, agrees, nods some more here and there as I talk endlessly.  Says nothing.  So much on his mind.

We walk around the car lot miles from our home and I hold my purse to me like it is gold.  Hold it with both arms and clasped hands.  There is cash inside an envelope.  His truck was worth more to him than this, but we don't make the rules.  I hold tightly and follow behind him.

We go eat breakfast to decide.  We sit in a booth and hear a beautiful blessing from behind us. 

We talk about mufflers and tires and how it needs a thousand dollars work.  I try to ask questions to help him decide.  How I wish I knew something about this stuff so I could give useful advice.  I feel helpless.

Our food comes.  Hot toast, eggs, bacon, and grits.  He takes my hand and thanks God.  He asks for wisdom in this decision.  He begs to stay in His will.

And then . . .

Part 2 tomorrow.

His Silence Only Means He Loves Me

He will read me here today.  Sometime in the heat of the day with the calluses on his hands that belong in wood and on the small of my back he will wipe the sweat from his forehead and go to me here and read me. 

He will know I am sorry for while he sat husking and silking and silent I went on and on and knew to shut up but wouldn't and his silence only meant he loves me.

He will not say things he can't take back he will not receive blame and in return give blame and why does he even put up with me?

And now I have lost the circle of gold that I should not have put there and cry while alone and his silence only means he loves me.

He will find me here today and know I am sorry and find me in silence tonight and his silence only means he loves me.

There are a million more . . .

If you've been keeping up, you know He's Too Good To Me and I are celebrating our twenty-first Valentine's together.  We have both created our own list of twenty-one reasons why we should not love each other, and twenty-one reasons why we do. 

Yesterday I posted the twenty-one reasons why we shouldn't.  If you missed it, go here before you read on.

So today, in honor of Valentine's Day, I will tell you  twenty one reasons why we do love each other.

His list comes first.

#21 - she is right most of the time.  did you catch the irony from #2 on his list yesterday?

#20 - she likes to wear my shirts.

#19 - she is a good teacher.

#18 - she is a good cook.

#17 - she will go see an action/sci-fi movie with me.

#16 - she is tolerant.

#15 - she doesn't do anything half-way.

#14 - because I don't deserve her.

#13 - she is my best friend.

#12 - she is not materialistic.

#11 - she is frugal.

#10 - she is beautiful.

#9  -  she always finds a way for me to pursue my hobbies.

#8  -  she is forgiving.

#7  -  she likes the outdoors.

#6  -  she is a great mother.

#5  -  she is a great wife.

#4  -  she is a wonderful lover.

#3  -  she loves the Lord.

#2  -  because she loves me.

and his #1 reason for loving me, which is so simple that it made me cry, is

#1  -  because it took me ten times longer to write the should not list than it did this one.

It is my turn.  His was straight to the point, but forgive me while I ramble.

#21 - he has never forgotten an anniversary or my birthday.  He forgives me when I forget his.

#20 - he carries all my heavy pots full of water.  nobody said the list had to make a whole lot of sense.

#19 - he reaches all the stuff on high shelves for me.

#18 - he has absolutely beautiful crows feet, which really turns me on.

#17 - you know the guys that work the hardest and never complain about it?  I got me one.  Thank you, honey.

#16 - he patiently does all my VBS decorating every year, and is a genius with ideas.

#15 - he winks at me when I catch his eye - no matter when, no matter where, no matter who sees.

#14 - he is never embarrassed when I go to the store in my slippers.

#13 - he is never embarrassed that I carry a blanket into the movie theater.

#12 - he remembers my red heels.  see pillow talk here.

#11 - he doesn't try to fix me - and, oh, there is so much to fix.

#10 - he doesn't mind my cold feet squishing their way between his legs.

#9  -  he has this little vein under his right eye.  oh, my.

#8  -  he never needs directions - well, most of the time.

#7  -  and the private stuff, well, let's just say he doesn't need any how-to books.

#6  -  good, kind, honest, generous, . . .

#5  -  when I was a little girl and played make believe house, he is the kind of daddy that came home every pretend night and loved my pretend babies and me.  A dream come true.

Coming up with the top reason why I love him was hard. There were three tight runners for the number one spot - with him being handsome a close fourth.

Second runner up. He has never, and I mean never, criticized me. Not for my clothes, or my hair, or my weight, or the house, or any of the other gazillion things he could criticize me for. Never. That's one in a million to me.

Runner-up. He loves me. For me. Not for the me I let others see, or the me you see here, or the me I want to be. He loves me for the me I would never ever let you see. The other me. The ugly, sinful, hateful, mean, spiteful, remembering me. That melts me.

Winner. A forgiveness he granted me at one in the morning on January 11, 2009. A forgiveness I did not deserve. Forgiveness for a secret I had kept far too long. Icing on my cake - never, ever has he mentioned it since. That's sexy and romantic and melts me and is far more than one in a million to me. Far, far more.

Our List of Should Not's (in which he lies)

First of all, let me repeat how I ended yesterday's post.

He's Too Good To Me and I have been through some deep valleys together - really deep. One day I'm gonna tell you all about it, I'm still working on my nerve - and telling my children first. 

Just saying that so you know that these reasons we shouldn't love one another - they don't hold a candle to the reasons we do.

His list comes first.  It is my right and prerogative as a woman, and the owner of this blog, to put it in any order I want - and I choose for you to see all his bad stuff last so you will forget about all my bad stuff. There, that's done.

His twenty-one reasons why he should not love me.  He gets straight to the point.

#1  -  she makes me write on her blog.

#2  -  she thinks she is right all of the time.  Be sure to check in tomorrow to his list and catch the irony.

#3  -  she kicks me out of bed for snoring.

#4  -  she is not a morning person.  And that, my friends, is an understatement. 

#5  -  she has no patience.  And that, my friends, is an understatement.

#6  -  she never just sits and does nothing.

#7  -  she forgets my birthday.

#8  -  she doesn't want me to have short hair.  come on baby, tell the truth, you mean shaved hair.

#9  -  she laughed when I asked her to marry me.

#10 - she stays at home too much.

#11 - she doesn't think my IPhone is cool.  refer to rie's #15.

#12 - she won't go to the doctor.

#13 - she hogs most all of the bed.

#14 - she thinks everything is too expensive.

#15 - she does not keep the interior of her car clean. 

#16 - she thinks she has the memory of an elephant.

#17 - she has a ridiculously bad sense of timing - especially when it comes to her memory.

#18 - she makes me carry an icechest to put her blizzards in - which she makes me go get.

#19 - N/A

#20 - N/A

#21 - N/A

excuse me y'all, while I go smooch my husband.

Now my list, and as usual, I'll ramble.

Twenty-one reasons why I should not love him.  In no particular order.

#1  -  he lied about his age. right. up. until. the. moment. we. got. our. marriage. license. the kicker - he only told the truth then because his parents had to sign for him.  the double kicker - his mom had to tell me.

#2  -  he doesn't have any gray hair that shows (excluding his beard) - which makes him look ten years (instead of the two he is)  younger than me when I forget or am too lazy to color and my hair gets all nappy and wirey and gray.

#3  -  he cannot spell - which means he asks me - which means I must admit ever so often to not knowing everything - which goes against the natural grain of my being.

#4  -  he snores. 'Nuff said there, right ladies?  Squoosh on over here and let's talk about how bad our men snore.
 
#5  -  he does not like chicken.
 
#6  -  he won't eat my chicken, in spite of #5.
 
#7  -  he won't fix the backdoor.
 
#8  -  he won't watch Turner Classic Movies with me late at night - which means I don't get to take Cary Grant or William Holden or Jimmy Stewart to bed with me.
 
#9  -  he rarely does anything the first time he is told asked.
 
#10 - he doesn't like to grill - I thought all men liked to grill.
 
#11 - he falls asleep while I'm talking - go figure.
 
#12 - he forgets to pump my gas so I don't have to - they really should rewrite the marriage vows, Wilt thou love, honor, obey, and pump her gas for her so she doesn't have to?
 
#13 - he doesn't have stretch marks, cellulite, or a fallen butt.
 
#14 - he hates to read.
 
#15 - he plays with his IPhone too much, especially when I'm rambling about something.
 
#16 - he won't put me up a new mailbox.
 
#17 - he procrastinates - which explains the back door, and the mailbox, and . . .
 
#18 - he has a metabolism that works - compared to mine that retired years ago.
 
#19 - I believe you can build a new shed out back out of anything old laying around or any old torn down buildings you see.  I call it recycling.  He calls it impossible.
 
#20 - he rarely does anything the first time he is told asked.  I know, I've already said that, but it bears repeating.
 
#21 - he can't be fixed.

But . . .

who cares?

Valentines and Twenty-One Reasons, actually eighty-four

Are you geared up for Valentine's Day yet?  Have you made plans, checked and double-checked a babysitter, changed the sheets, and showered?

Valentines has never been a big deal around here for He's Too Good To Me and me.  When you have three girls like he does, getting them a little something always seems more important than the two of us celebrating it.  You know the whole Dads-love-your-daughters-like-princesses-so-they-don't-love-boys-too-young kind of thing.

Just a little sugar has always been enough to satisfy me.

This is our twenty-first Valentine's together.  In celebration I thought I'd list twenty-one reasons why I love him and twenty-one reasons why I shouldn't.  The fun part for me - he gets to create the same list about me.

We have spit and shook hands, sealed it with a smooch, and promised no hard feelings.  Good fun like this is free and keeps the spark alive - along with a shower and a changing of the sheets now and then.

Come back tomorrow and check out the reasons we shouldn't love each other.

Here's a little teaser on the shouldn't's till tomorrow -

My #1 reason - he lied about his age.  right. up. until. the. moment. we. got. our. marriage. license.  the kicker - he only told the truth then because his parents had to sign for him.  the double kicker - his mom had to tell me.

His #1 reason - I make him write for my blog.

By the way, he and I have been through some deep valleys together - really deep. One day I'm gonna tell you all about it, I'm still working on my nerve - and telling my children first.

Just saying that so you know that these reasons we shouldn't love one another - they don't hold a candle to the reasons we do.

Yada, Yada, Yada

We have four cars. First of all, maybe we are being punished for having four cars with four drivers. Doesn't anyone know how to share any longer?

The newest is an '02 Ford F150. They go downhill, or down-year, from there. I wasn't lying in my profile when I said we drive cars that run. They're not expensive or fancy and each one has its own - let's say - personality.

As you know, personalities can be quirky, fickle, or even down-right mean.

Oil leaks in one car, power steering fluid in the other, the heat does not work in two - okay, it sorta works - sometimes. One car has four doors but only two door handles, one car has a leak on the inside - going upwards - try explaining gravity to a car. One squeaks like an old wire mattress above a saloon on a cowboy's payday.

Are you appreciating your vehicles yet?

He's Too Good To Me keeps them running and tuned as best he can on a limited budget. Just one (I should have known better) question and one complaint too many about the heat in my 'ole faithful Durango led us to this conversation today.

He's Too Good To Me is in blue. I'm in red.




"Blah, blah, blah"





"Blah, blah, blah, blah"





"See?"

Sex on Saturdays - Ladies, Don't Withhold

Hey friends from Getting Down With Jesus -

I did this Sex on Saturdays series a couple of years ago.  Instead of reposting it all, I've just linked you back to the page.

It took bravery - but I'm glad I did it.  I hope you are, too.

If you want to read them all, just click on the label at the end of this post.

Okay - here goes nothing - or everything.

It took me a long time to get up the nerve to blog about this subject.  It's taboo among women in some circles and I don't know what circle all of you are in. This first one's also kinda long - there's that intoduction stuff.  It'll get better so bear with me if you can. 

Know that I have been praying about this, and praying for months now for the women that will read it.  To get started, it's only fair to say that when He's Too Good To Me and I were struggling with this area in our lives I'm not sure that any amount of advice from anyone would have helped me.  I cried alot, and prayed.  Prayers like, "Help me, help me, help me."  I didn't have the words or energy to pray much else. 

It's a wonderful thing we don't have to tell God what to do, we can believe he knows and shares our pain, and that words like help me go as far as any other words. 

If you are struggling with this area of life, and nothing I or anyone else says helps, or if for many reasons you can't act on anyone's advice, then I pray God's comfort and peace gives you the energy to not give up.  There is hope, always.

Why is it, ladies, before we get married we can't keep our hands off our guy and our minds out of the gutter?  We want to kiss, touch, and let our minds and bodies wander to the danger zone.  Rebellion, that's why.  Our sinful nature to rebel against God and the sins of the flesh.  Our sinful desire was to be physical.

We get married, wake up one normal day, and suddenly we have to make ourselves make love.  We have many excuses for it, but it is still rebellion.  Rebelling against God's plan is what we do best; and after marriage it will manifest itself in the sinful desire to withhold.  

It's common knowledge men have sex on the brain more than women, but just because this is true does not give us permission to use "not tonight" as a form of punishment, or to withhold for whatever reason. Withholding is not always mean-spirited, but it can be.  Some excuses we label "reasons" - and we'll discuss that later. 

I love to talk.  When He's Too Good To Me comes home I could sit and talk about my day for an hour, at least.  I enjoy it, it's how I communicate my need for him, and it's a stress reliever.  Most of the time he politely obliges, sometimes even enjoying it. 

How would I feel if he ignored me or made me feel like he was doing me a "favor" by listening?  Hurt, that's how I'd feel - unloved and unwanted.  Are our men so different?

Girls, your guy is wired for sex as enjoyment.  Sex is his stress reliever.  And, most importantly, sex is how he communicates his need for you.

Within a year of our marriage it was in trouble.  Deep trouble.  Sinking fast and both of us were too young and, more importantly, out of God's will, to know how to save it.

My knight in shining armor was battling inner demons that appeared to be winning.  My answer - none for you tonight, buddy.  Here's your pillow and blanket and there's the sofa - better yet, there's the road.  I had unrealistic expectations about marriage and had placed a burden on my husband - the burden of my happiness.  I was selfish, I was no good to him, and I did not understand and did not try to.  He was letting me down and that was all I cared about.

I withheld sex.  I might as well have withheld his oxygen. I had a plan.  It did not work.  My twisted idea that he would give me what I wanted if I withheld what he wanted proved itself warped.  For years.  Years that he and I can never get back. 

Women want a healthy, happy, and fullfilling relationship. 

Men want an active sex life.  They have desires, just like us.  Just different desires.  They are not from a different planet - but withhold sex and they feel we do not love them.  They become unhealthy, unhappy, and unfullfilled.  And so do we. 

But, like I said, withholding isn't always mean-spirited.  Yes, it's reasonable that we are tired, have mommy stuff on the brain (and good mommys don't lust? yeah right, we'll talk about that one), warm up slowly, and have physical problems. 

We're also gonna talk about men wanting not only frequent sex, but passionate sex.  What exactly is hot sex?

Deciding to improve your sex life is not just another burden or add-on to your already full to-do list.  It's marriage salvation.  It's biblical and was created to be enjoyed. 

"Kiss me - full on the mouth!  Yes!  For your love is better than wine, headier than your aromatic oils.  The syllables of your name murmur like a meadow brook."  Song of Solomon 1:1-3

That's the woman talking to her man.  Sex is a good thing and our bodies are wired to enjoy it also - when we turn our minds off.  So - enjoy it.  Unlock its potential in your marriage. If it is broken it is time to fix it.  If it is not, then celebrate it.

See 'ya next Saturday.  In the meantime, don't withhold.  See what happens.  

To read more, click on the label below.