The other day some of my co-workers witnessed my husband riding in on his motorcycle during my lunch hour just to bring me nachos. Afterwards, they suggested to me that my husband should hold a seminar teaching men how to treat a woman. Sometimes I forget how blessed I am. I take these things for granted and don't appreciate him nearly as often as I should.
Tomorrow we are celebrating our eighteenth wedding anniversary. Our marriage isn't perfect. We've had our ups and downs. My husband isn't perfect. Sometimes he can be really cranky. But I'm not perfect, either. Sometimes I am selfish and spoiled. Just this morning he made me breakfast and brought it to me while I was watching a sweet video he tagged me in on Facebook. Instead of thanking him for the breakfast that he didn't have to make me, I complained that he only made me one egg when I preferred to have two. He immediately took his second egg off his plate and gave it to me.
I suppose I could blame him for being so spoiled. He takes such good care of me that I tend to take him for granted. He goes out of his way every day to care for my needs, from making sure I have a clean towel when I take a shower to telling me every day that I am beautiful. He treats me like a treasure, and I am so blessed to have him. And yet other times his health problems can make him a real pain.
See, the secret to being married for 18 years is not whether he is perfect or whether I am perfect. It's about decisions. We promised each other before God and witnesses to be faithful to each other until death do us part. And we figured that since we are stuck with each other, we might as well enjoy it. So we take steps to make it work. We hold hands and kiss in public like we are still dating and work to treat each other right. And despite his imperfections, I am blessed to have a husband who works so hard to make happy.
Tomorrow we are headed to Hannibal, Missouri on the motorcycle to celebrate 18 years of togetherness. And we plan to enjoy it. :) Happy Anniversary, Erick! I love you!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Graduation
At last, after five years of hard work, I am a college graduate with a B.A. in Communication Studies from Indiana University East. Last Friday we travelled back to Richmond, Indiana, so that I could walk in the commencement ceremony. I never had a high school graduation, because 18 years ago I was more interested in a wedding gown than a cap and gown, and since Erick and I were pretty much the class of '96, we convinced our parents that a high school graduation ceremony was not necessary. But this time, it was very important to me to walk in that processional, accept my diploma cover, turn my tassel, and bask in the shower of confetti.
My family showed up late, just as I predicted, right in the middle of the prayer, or should I say, the invocation, in which the dignified preacher gave thanks to God for our intellects. Erick and I had arrived the day before for rehearsal, leaving our children with my parents so they could all come up together. They had planned to leave at 2:00...and posted on Facebook at 2:30 they were leaving...and really left at 3:00. Throw in a detour, a Burger King stop, and having to park five blocks away because of limited parking (which I warned them about the night before), and arriving plenty early as planned just didn't happen.
The ceremony was probably similar to other ceremonies. We all made a big noisy fuss every time the words "Class of 2014" were spoken. The new chancellor was adorably short and could barely see over the podium. I got to wear my honors cords and graduated with highest distinction--a 4.0 GPA along with 15 others with perfect grades out of a class of over 600. We sang the IU song, which I had never heard before and has confusing lyrics (what is Gloriana Frangipana?) and my dad (a Purdue fan) sang a parody of it to himself up there in the rafters where they were sitting.
It was fun, it was crazy, I didn't know hardly anyone since my classes were online. I teared up when they asked us to stand if we couldn't have done it without the love and support of our friends and family, and then asked us to turn and wave to them. They all screamed and shouted for me when I crossed the stage, and they also screamed and shouted for any other graduate that crossed if no one else screamed for them.
And now it's over, and everyone wants to know what I'm going to do with my degree. For now, I'll keep writing for Mighty Strong Girls Magazine. It doesn't pay, but it's something that matters, and I have to do something that matters. I'll keep working at Walmart catching shoplifters, because it's fun and it pays the bills. If I get the job at the Illinois State Police that I interviewed for a few months ago processing FOID cards (that's something you have to have here to be able to buy guns or ammo) I'll do that. And I'll just keep walking with God, day by day, and using my gifts to serve Him the best I can.
My family showed up late, just as I predicted, right in the middle of the prayer, or should I say, the invocation, in which the dignified preacher gave thanks to God for our intellects. Erick and I had arrived the day before for rehearsal, leaving our children with my parents so they could all come up together. They had planned to leave at 2:00...and posted on Facebook at 2:30 they were leaving...and really left at 3:00. Throw in a detour, a Burger King stop, and having to park five blocks away because of limited parking (which I warned them about the night before), and arriving plenty early as planned just didn't happen.
The ceremony was probably similar to other ceremonies. We all made a big noisy fuss every time the words "Class of 2014" were spoken. The new chancellor was adorably short and could barely see over the podium. I got to wear my honors cords and graduated with highest distinction--a 4.0 GPA along with 15 others with perfect grades out of a class of over 600. We sang the IU song, which I had never heard before and has confusing lyrics (what is Gloriana Frangipana?) and my dad (a Purdue fan) sang a parody of it to himself up there in the rafters where they were sitting.
It was fun, it was crazy, I didn't know hardly anyone since my classes were online. I teared up when they asked us to stand if we couldn't have done it without the love and support of our friends and family, and then asked us to turn and wave to them. They all screamed and shouted for me when I crossed the stage, and they also screamed and shouted for any other graduate that crossed if no one else screamed for them.
And now it's over, and everyone wants to know what I'm going to do with my degree. For now, I'll keep writing for Mighty Strong Girls Magazine. It doesn't pay, but it's something that matters, and I have to do something that matters. I'll keep working at Walmart catching shoplifters, because it's fun and it pays the bills. If I get the job at the Illinois State Police that I interviewed for a few months ago processing FOID cards (that's something you have to have here to be able to buy guns or ammo) I'll do that. And I'll just keep walking with God, day by day, and using my gifts to serve Him the best I can.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)