Happy Friday!! Love me some weekend, Mamma. We’re almost there!
I got home from a three day business trip yesterday to find a hot dinner simmering in the crock-pot, kids’ carpools confirmed by Daddy, and to hear about the healthy lunch Daddy had made and packed for the kids that day. I also found a kitchen full of dirty dishes, unopened mail on my desk, and discovered we are out of toilet paper.
Now, looking at the work my husband did and did not do while I was away, I could arrive home and get huffy and sniffy about the mess, or I could be wildly grateful for a man that held down the fort and kept everyone warm and fed while I was gone. I choose to be grateful. I choose to be so very grateful.
He’s not perfect, see. (Big surprise.) And neither am I, come to that. We match.
It struck me this morning that every day in my marriage I could find fault. Every day I could see the mess. I seriously could pick a fight every single day over something or another.
Or every day I could find treasures and gifts. And every day I can be grateful.
I figure my job in this here partnership is 1) to do my part of the work 2) let him know what I need and 3) choose to see and be grateful for the good.
And no, not every marriage is good; if you’re married to a drug addict, abuser or serial philanderer, then I’m sorry and get thee an attorney, dear (and a good counselor), but most of us are married to good guys. Not perfect. But good. Really good most of the time.
Do your bit.
Tell him what you need.
And choose gratitude.
That’s my happily ever after. Yours too?