Wednesday, May 28, 2014 at 11:14AM
Caring for Marriage

I am not normally an exclamation point kind of girl. But I notice that on Facebook they pop up more often than flies at a picnic. It almost seems rude to simply end with a period, as if you were bored, or multi tasking with writing a paper, IMing and checking your ebay listings. 

Speaking of Facebook, there are a whole lot of superlatives. 
"My kids are the absolute best!!!"
"This five star entree was deeeelicious!!!"
"This video will totally make you cry!!!!"
It's exhausting.
If I am honest, my own life hovers around ordinary most of the time. If I were to calculate the moments of excellence amidst the commonplace it would be less than one percent, which mathematically speaking is insignificant. 
The twins and I have a bowl of mint chocolate chip with a peanut butter cup on top.
The chicks cheep in chorus, spill their scratch and get more feathers. 
John tells me about his next sermon topic. 
Zack has cereal and uses up the last of the milk. 
Nothing exclamation worthy, unless you are particularly fond of peanut butter cups. 
If I use social media as a barometer or regular media for that matter, it is easy to feel inadequate. I did not travel outside my time zone, nor did any of my kids win an award, and the fanciest thing I did with John was eat at Chipotle, which was yummy but not exactly upper crust. The napkins were paper. Does that mean it was not a week worth living? 
In 1979 I chaperoned on a girls' club trip over Thanksgiving break with another woman. She felt a little guilty that her husband had the flu, but she went anyway. We chatted while making sure the eight girls enjoyed their supper, and cleaned up, and went to sleep eventually. It was not especially noteworthy as weekends go. But in the days that followed my friend realized that her husband did not have the flu. He had stage four cancer. She buried him by March. 
Her daughter was my third grade student and I felt incapable of rising to the task of helping her grieve. Her father was gone before her twelve year molars came in. 
What I remember from the weekend with absolute clarity was something my friend said about her marriage. 
"I love the simple days... sharing coffee on the deck, laughing about something silly, holding hands for the prayer." She said this not knowing that her husband's days were numbered in the double digits. But it forever shifted my perspective about what it takes to have a satisfying marriage. 
Maybe eating burritos was not such a boring thing to do after all. But next time I will bring a peanut butter cup for dessert. 


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