Kiss Your Miracle

Near the time of my dad’s death, my mom wrote a post on her blog about being her husband’s helper. When she was overwhelmed with the idea of caring for him through his cancer, she felt God reminding her that all she needed to do was the thing she’d always done: help him. Her words stuck with me, partly because I know she really lived that way. I have no memories of my mom belittling my dad, correcting him, or nagging him. Even during my self-centered teenage years when I was hyper-critical of my father and constantly pointing out his flaws, my mom never once agreed with me. She would always defend her husband.

Now that I’m older and married, her philosophy of helping has even more meaning, and I keep thinking about it. To be honest, it’s not really that difficult for me to want to help Adam, and I guess that’s mainly because he’s always helping me. I used to give Sky a bath every night, but now that my belly is big enough to make the process really awkward, he does it. “No, you put your feet up,” he tells me when I offer to help.

Sky just cut two new teeth and she’s been irritable this week (major understatement). But Adam still jumps right in with her when he gets home from work. The other day after he put up our Christmas lights while I sat in a lawn chair on the driveway, he took Sky for ride after ride on his old long skateboard. I grabbed the camera and found myself overwhelmed with gratitude for my husband, who takes such good care of his family. Things in our marriage are really good right now. But I’m also praying we have many more years together, and that will probably include some tough stretches. I hope I don’t forget my mom’s wisdom when those difficult times come, and instead of pushing my own agenda or trying to prove that I’m right, I hope I step back and focus on what God really wants us to do in our marriages: help each other.