callmeloquacious

Friday, Honey and I celebrated our 5th anniversary. Of course, things didn’t go as planned. In our case, the anniversary plans went awry when Honey had a scratched cornea and an eye infection.

Friday was spent at home, with the boys. My grand plans for supper were sloppy pizza (a family specialty). (But after a conversation with my mom questioning my choices and how that wasn’t fancy enough) we settled on homemade hamburgers and potato chips. We finished the night with a movie with the boys. The whole day I sat in the middle of chaos, toys everywhere, imaginations running high, costume changes and tiny humans running laps around the couch. And the whole day, the whole day, I kept feeling this overwhelming amount of thankfulness. Thankful that my life, my messy, hectic life is all mine. It’s God-given. Did I mention messy? But when I hear, “I love you Mama,” and I receive unsolicited kisses from my men (both grown and tiny), the mess doesn’t seem so bad.

Hunter and Walker have heard stories and seen pictures about their first daddy, Clayton. They’ve heard about his love for them. G’Mema (my mama) told them that he asked Jesus to send a special Daddy to them to love them and to take care of them. She told them that on the day Daddy (Honey) married me, he married them too; he saw us and picked us. While they may not understand all of it, I do. And I believe it. I see how much they are all loved from three different families and am reminded that God’s hand is in it all. His hand was there in the sorrow; it was there in the peace. God was there in the beginning. He is with me now.

Today, (thankfully) Honey’s eye is healing. The boys all have colds and snotty noses. All of them (also thankfully) are now asleep. The dishwasher is running. The toys are still scattered across the floor. I have clothes to put away, and a front door to paint. But, I’m learning daily some things don’t matter. Some things will keep.

Happy Anniversary, my love. I look forward to fifty plus more years together. Watching our boys grow. Eating homemade hamburgers, living life. And hopefully never stepping on another lego again.