Sunday, September 25, 2011

a story about love.

Friday morning I awoke to the sounds of their little feet running down the stairs. The boys snuggled their cold toes into our covers and rocked our bed around as their bodies wiggled with the excitement of a new day.

Duke said, "Well, I'd better get to work."

I cried.

He didn't notice as I cried into my pillow. I sobbed to myself while he took a shower. The boys, always very concerned when I cry, asked if I was sick. They hugged me and kissed my cheeks until I composed myself and went to make breakfast. I checked the mirror and still had puffy eyes, which I was hoping he might notice. (Women are strange like that.)

Duke continued to ready himself for the workday while I calmed down, and when he eventually came to kiss me goodbye I was oh, so cold to him. I am sure he was confused as he asked me if I was alright. I am sure he was even more confused when I burned my hand on a pot and instantly became a full blubbering mess.

I explained, the best I could, that I was lonely in a house full of people, that I couldn't face another day of routine and waiting for this baby to come, that I felt like he was miles away from me when we were sitting side-by-side.

Then I calmed down and said he should go back to work. He walked into our room for a moment, and returned saying, "Let's go to the beach. Today." When I started to protest he said, "What does work, or anything else, matter if you are not happy?"

And that is why I have total faith in the great possibility of happy marriages that last.

He knows I feel most loved when he spends quality time with me. I know he feels most loved when I tell him with tender words how I feel about him and when I hug and kiss him often. We each minister to the other's needs, loving one another the way that we feel love the most, even when it's a great sacrifice. And we are happy.

The beach was warm but foggy; so foggy that we couldn't see the ocean from the shore. I imagined we were on the coast of Ireland and that fishermen with their nets stood along the water's edge.

We marveled at the tiny wonders that unfolded before our eyes as we walked further into the mist and our vision permitted the new terrain.

My empty tank (and I imagine, the tanks of several, little boys) filled and filled. My cup runneth over.

I am so thankful for my marriage to a man to whom I can confide even my most irrational feelings.

I am so thankful for a family that, when all together, helps me put the pieces of myself in place so that I can function.

I am thankful that strained relationships can be healed time and time again.

I am so thankful for a loving Father in Heaven who gave us all a world of treasure at our fingertips, so long as we take the time to prioritize and sacrifice that we may see it clearly.

And I'm thankful for beach sand, even if it comes home with us like a stray dog.

7 comments:

Trina said...

i was just thinking about you during relief society. wondering how your beach day went because i remembered you were so excited about it. :) and i wondered if that little baby had come yet. we are as anxious as you (ok, probably not).
lots of love

robin said...

what a perfectly perfect post. you make me want to be better (and not in a depressing, envious way).

i can't wait for you to have this baby!

slimeytoeheadtwins said...

so cute!!! i wish my husband would stay home when i am sad he has to go to work!! love the little hands and feet of your smallest one. can't wait for your new baby to come!

Bridget said...

That is one of my favorite kissing photos of you and Duke : ) Thanks for sharing your life with us!

TheUnSoccerMom said...

you.are.blessed.

Scott and Stacia said...

Cute Story!! I love when everything just works out so perfectly. Women are funny (especially when we are pregnant) but somehow our husbands just get us (or maybe they are just blessed with more patience). Hang in there...the end of this pregnancy is in sight :)

Natalie said...

Those marriage-saving love languages. We were married 10 years before I heard about them. Magical. Except when we forget to speak them. Good boy for taking action.

Good luck playing the waiting game.