Tuesday was a less than gracious day for me. From the moment I’d dragged myself out of bed, all that I’d managed to do was scowl and scold and fumble my way through things. I said as much to my husband mid afternoon, between the chaotic piles of toys and clothes that decorated our living areas.
Fast forward to the end of the day – the kids were finally in bed and the kangaroos were hopping out from the bush in the gloomy almost-dark. While I had been rocking our littlest to sleep, my husband had tidied the lounge and, as I came back up the hall, insisted on me sitting on the couch with him for a moment.
With my head on his shoulder, I was all set to have a self-pitying moan and a sigh about how useless I’d felt all day, and how frustrating it all was, but he stopped me, pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and began to read. He’d made a list of every little thing that I had successfully accomplished that day. From the making of breakfast, to the dressing (and repeated re-dressing) of our girls, to the odd jobs I’d helped him with, he’d noted it all down and he thanked me for it all.
By this point I was in tears. Words cannot express how deeply thankful I am for this man who not only accepts my bad days, but reaches down into them to help pull me up. Who teaches me humility in every circumstance, and leads by example. Who consistently forgives my failings and reminds me that God does likewise, only more so. There’s no other quite like you for helping me to see the best in any situation, I’m so very grateful to God for having brought us together. 💕