Our family literally just came off tour with Viruspalooza, a single city event, that took out all six of us in less than 5 days.
It was brutal.
I was no doubt cleaning up messes from Reagan just hours after being violently ill myself. Jason’s uniform for 4 days was Lysol, Clorox and black rubber gloves.
Until Day 5 when it took him down.
Just hours earlier I had told him, “You know, you’ve come a long way since our early days of marriage…”
He said, “I knew you were going to bring that up…”
“That” was when we were fresh faced and newly married and I got food poisoning.
I got SO sick.
While taking a shower, he came in, gagged and told me, “Oh, babe, (gag) I’m sorry, (wretch) you’re gonna have to clean that, (gag ) up yourself.”
Exit stage left.
I learned very quickly that boys do not handle illness the same way girls do. I think God made us that way for a reason. You know, the whole baby growing thing we are responsible for…
I also learned very quickly during our near death experience this past week that I would rather take care of all four children vomiting and diarrhea-ing simultaneously than take care of ONE sick Jason.
And I really had to repent for it.
I was resentful that my sick day, which I never take for myself, another mom thing I think, had all six of us home and included fun activities such as “hey let’s ask mom stupid questions in 3 minute intervals”and “can you help me with my 14 page Math homework that is due tomorrow?”
Where as Jason’s sick day consisted of TWO solitary days of complete quiet and restoration.
I was ready for Jason to put on his big boy panties and move on.
Because, you know, I did.
Why can’t he be more like me?
A week after a C-section I was moving a classroom.
Two days after having my gall bladder removed I was scrubbing a kitchen floor because we had a house to sell.
C’mon people. We got stuff to do.
Did I mention I had to repent? God will do that to you when you’re being a baby. It’s dumb.
Maybe I’m just jealous that Jason is better at resting than I am.
Maybe I’m sad that he can sit and just be and I feel like my day isn’t meaningful unless I’m running around at breakneck speed.
This time not so long ago, a fresh faced Jill was gearing up to marry a baby faced Jason. My mom and I were knee deep in pew bows, bridesmaid dresses, flowers and food.
This Saturday, Jason and I will celebrate our 17th anniversary.
Over the past 20 years together Jason has loved me more than I deserve. He’s such a good man.
He has loved me way more than I have loved myself.
He has loved me when I’m happy and when I’m in a deep dark.
He works hard.
He cooks, cleans, does the dishes, washes hair, loves Jesus and his kids.
He provides for us through his creativity and love for our church and through the back breaking work of our pressure washing business.
There are sometimes when life gets hard and the kids are nuts and our house seems like it will explode at the sheer crazy it is trying to contain and I think, “This is it. He’s going to leave.”
But he never does.
As a young girl I never prayed for my future husband. I never really knew I needed to. I’m so thankful that God gave me more than I deserve when He gave me Jay.
I went to hear Amanda Wilcox minister on Sunday and she said something that really summed up my feelings of resentment. She said, “If you feel entitled to something you can’t feel thankful for it.”
Thank you Holy Ghost.
I felt entitled to Jason and all he does for our family.
Like the universe owes me a husband who will take care of me the way I want.
Without much in return.
This isn’t a post lauding and magnifying my husband.
He’s human and subject to sin and error too.
No one is perfect.
This is a post about sin in our own lives, owning up to it, and making a change. A post about being grateful for what is right in front of you and counting that blessing. No matter how big and obvious or how small and seemingly insignificant it is.