Seven. The number of toothbrushes in our grown-up bathroom. Two. The number of grown-ups who dwell in this home. Four. The number of children who have gifted us one or more of their toothbrushes. Three. The number of children who fail to brush their teeth unless instructed to do so.
The toothbrushes are held in a cherished, cracked piece of pottery Haddi made (with guidance from Sterling Hayes) several years ago. Somehow, that little cracked piece of pottery feels like a fitting picture of our life.
Yesterday marked ten years of life being Kyle’s wife. Ten years of being loved well.
On my drive home from work I made space to ponder all God has done over the past decade. What filled my mind was an image of a shattered piece of pottery that had been carefully put back together. A decade ago, Kyle didn’t stumble upon me in a put-together type of way. He stumbled upon me as a young single-mom of a 3-year-old and 10-month-old who had walls built sky-high, who was skeptical of all but about three men in the world, who had experienced things she never expected to experience, and who was quite confused and frustrated that her biggest prayers hadn’t been answered in the way she expected.
There was a woman in my life (J.G.) who reached out and spoke life into my crumbling. I didn’t know her story prior to this and she could have easily thought, “it’s not my place to say anything.” Instead she infused me with truth. She built me up and reminded me of God’s goodness when life seemed to be falling apart.
Kyle and I are quite different, but there was a three-year span starting in the eighth grade that I was utterly in love with him. The exact words I spoke to a friend when I was 14 were: “There is absolutely no reason I shouldn’t marry him.”
When he reached out to me over a decade later, my immediate – somewhat annoyed – thought was “Now you wanna marry me?” Two months later I finally agreed to go on a date. I was standing in the bathroom fixing my hair thinking, what in the world are you doing? You have two kids. You don’t even recognize the person in the mirror. What are you bringing to the table here? Four months later we got married in the Murrays’ backyard. That was ten years ago.
When he proposed he asked for at least 50 years. This ten-year mark is great! How cool?! We’ve been married for a chunk of time, but on the flip side, I often think, oh no! Ten years down. We only have at least 40 left. (I think we need to re-agree on this timing because I’d really like at least 70. Don’t die anytime soon!)
For this anniversary, we took our boys and two of our nephews fishing. They caught a huge frog, and a couple turtles while I laid on a cement table top listening to the really obnoxious bird and the interesting bull frog, thinking about how great life is. Far from perfect. Far from pristine. But a wonderful life. (I said I wasn’t going to write a sappy post, but who are we kidding, you know me.)
Susan David, author of Emotional Agility, said, “through writing, I learned to sit with my emotions, the pleasant and unpleasant ones. …showing up and applying words to emotions is a tremendously helpful way to deal with stress, anxiety loss.” I’ve also learned it’s a tremendously helpful way to fully experience joy, love, and gain.
Gratitude is something I’ve written about often. It’s not surface-level, and it’s not a silly practice. There are mounds of research that show that it’s a powerful practice that can increase overall well-being and resilience. Maybe I’m annoyingly grateful. I’ll stand on that hill for a lifetime.
So to fully experience joy, love, and gain: I write, I reflect, I’m grateful.
Grateful for a husband who is steady, who wades through the waves of life with a peace about him. Grateful for his calm demeanor. Grateful for a husband who is simple. Who doesn’t require bells and whistles and toys and extravagant hobbies, but is content with an evening walk and reading after supper. Grateful that he appreciates the little things in life. Grateful that he took off the frogs and the turtles from the hooks last night. Grateful that he chose not only me, but two little girls as well. Grateful that he continues choosing us daily.
For a short stint of my life overseas, I lived without a washing machine or a hot shower. Now…daily I am grateful for these things. For a stint of my life, I found myself unloved and unwanted. Now…daily I am grateful that’s not the case.
Why in the world am I starting this Thursday morning by pouring my life out to the world? Because for a time I felt alone, and that sweet lady who wasn’t even on my radar spoke life into my crumbling situation. So maybe this is less of a happy anniversary post and more of a reminder for those who are walking through a wretched situation – for those who feel like a shattered piece of pottery – to hang on to that thread of hope. The cracks, the broken, the beat down aren’t disqualified from a beautiful life; they’re in the perfect position for restoration. God is still good and your situation was never a surprise to Him. And…if you’re reading this and thinking, she wrote this just for me, text/DM me a flamingo or a penguin as your S.O.S. because I’d love to jump into your corner.