When I was vacuuming the living room couch last weekend, I once again got mad about all the crumbs under the cushions where my husband sits. Why does he always have to eat in here, I asked myself. Really?
This is what my dining room has looked like for the last few weeks. Do I expect him to eat at this table? I don’t think so. As I have been pushing to finish writing my memoir about my mission trip to Kenya, I have rather taken over an entire room. (I was sewing today and you should see what that room looks like!)
My poor husband. He patiently puts up with so much from me. He is an absolute saint, catering to all of my whims and supporting most of my schemes. (He is never too excited though when I bring home another cat.)
I searched for the perfect Bible passage, but honestly, most days around here are like an old episode of “I Love Lucy”. My husband even walks in the door calling “Luuu-ceee!” And being the faithful wife that I am, I answer “Ricky”. And then slowly, using only innocent white lies, confess my latest escapade. Quite lucky for me, my Ricky never raises his voice or even his finger to me. I am so blessed.
Lord, thank you for sending me the most patient man in the world. Help me to be a better wife to him, more understanding, more hard-working around the house, more patient myself. Grant us many, many more years together. Amen
(Our 14th wedding anniversary is in two weeks, I probably should have waited until then to post this, but this is what God sent me to write today. If I struggle in being obedient to my husband, I figure I should at least listen to Someone.)