His own flesh

Maybe I could blame pregnancy hormones.

Or maybe I could blame being tired from being gone,  homeschooling our older 3 children or just having 6 kids ages 7 and under and being pregnant.

Or maybe I could blame it on the rain (I mean, Milli Vanilli did, right?). I mean, it DID rain a lot here lately.

But I should probably own up to the fact that my flesh just wanted to be mean.

Y'all I've been a real snot to my husband over the last week. Actually, more like a week and a half. I've been rude, stubborn, selfish, prideful, hateful, angry, selfish, easily annoyed, selfish.

Did I mention selfish?

And the thing is, he really didn't even give me a good reason to be mean and selfish.

Unless you count breathing.

Or talking.

Or just generally being in my presence.

Then, OH SWEET MERCY, then Tuesday happened.

Our oldest 3 kids went on a Thanksgiving adventure with my parents. They left bright and early Tuesday morning and I set my pregnant mind on getting our house in some kind of order. My darling, ever-patient-with-me-husband did exactly as I asked him (not so casually or nicely, mind you) and disassembled and moved an enormous bunk bed that was in the big kids' room. We'd purchased a smaller set and Amanda and I had plans to set it up on Tuesday. And we did. We set up bunkbeds, rearranged rooms, half-assembled a small dresser. You know, did LOTS.

Then Tuesday night, we got the bright idea to go do some Christmas shopping. About and hour or two into our escapades, the day hit me. Or so I thought.

Cold sweat, chills and extreme nausea and fatigue.

We headed home and for the next 12 hours my husband held back my hair and brought me cold rags as I battled the WORST stomach virus I've ver had.

He, as a result, had to take the day off Wednesday while I recovered from my all night pukefest.

Slowly on the mend, Thursday was better and somehow I managed to be a little nicer to my husband who had served me so graciously over the last 24 hours, despite my hatefulness the week before.

And then TODAY. I knew Luke was planning to work this week. I mean, he'd just taken off work for our Colorado trip and for his trip to Guinea-Bissau so taking off time at Thanksgiving was not really an option. Especially since he'd played nurse all night and day Tuesday and Wednesday.

But this morning, he got our three littlest darlings out of bed, fed and dressed them all before I stumbled into the kitchen. As I stumbled toward the coffee pot, he looked at my disheveled self and said, "You can go back to bed if you'd like."

"Huh?" I said, sure I'd not heard him right. "What time are you going to work?"

"I'm not going to work today," he said as a big smile spread across his face.

"What?" I said, in disbelief.

"Yeah. I'm going to take the babies and run some errands. Why don't you go grab lunch or something and take the day off? Just be back by 3:00 because you have somewhere you need to be."

What-tha?

At 3:00 I found out that my darling husband had scheduled me a prenatal massage. The BEST massage I've ever had, mind you. Then after my day off and afternoon of pampering, I went and did more Christmas shopping with Amanda.

Seriously.

HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG, so this wasn't suck up behavior.

Then it hit me.

He was living out Ephesians 5. Despite my nasty attitude, my selfishness, what I deserved, he was loving me as he loves his own flesh.

Why? Because of his love for the Lord.

Y'all, my man isn't perfect. Trust me. Earlier this week, I probably could have listed off about 10 of his flaws. Quickly.

But he loves me. He sacrifices for me. Even when I don't deserve it.

Even when I'm hateful and selfish and mean.

Just as Jesus Christ Himself loves the church and sacrificed his own flesh for her.

My prayer tonight is that if you've never experienced that kind of love, that you'll seek it out and find that Christ loves you much more than any human man could ever love his wife.

And you'll relish it in His extravagant love. Just as I am relishing in my husband's love for the Lord, which has been poured out on me, despite what I really deserve. Both Christ and my husband love me extravagantly. Like their own flesh.

Doing nothing

The plane hit the runway hard. I tried not to giggle when I felt Luke's body tense as the wheels of the plane rebounded and hit the runway a second time.

It was the ending of a long, beautiful, quiet and totally relaxing weekend. One that went by much too fast and yet incredibly slowly all at the same time. How is it that time can do that to you? How is it that the days can seem long but the weekend seem short?

"We'll remember the quiet, the peacefulness, the rest, this whole weekend a week from now when we're back home and the chaos has set back in, right?" Luke said, almost sheepishly.

He was serious. It's so easy to forget the refuge you've just enjoyed as six precious, screaming, emotional children are hanging onto your pants legs and wanting their needs met instantly.

My parents were rockstars, taking control of our small army of children, dispatching them to varying locations of family and friends, feeding, bathing, filling cups and putting kids to bed. Their generosity has continued to baffle me in the days since we've been home.

After all, they gave us that trip last Christmas. I was sure they'd say it had expired long ago. But instead, they continued to urge us to go, take a vacation, spend some time away from the kids, be alone. They were equally excited for us as we were excited to go.

We chose Colorado because we love the mountains. We chose a quiet little town because we wanted someplace quiet, without the hustle and bustle of a busy ski resort town.

It never takes me long to remember just why I fell in love with this man I call my husband. He's thoughtful, gentle, strong, considerate and he always makes me laugh harder than anyone else. Over the course of the weekend, I just kept thinking about how I wanted our own children to know and understand a love like that one day.

I'm not going to pretend our marriage is always sunshine and rainbows. In fact, since we've been home, I've been less than cheerful to my husband. He's not really done anything in particular wrong.

Unless you count breathing.

Which has annoyed me at times over the past week. As has every other aspect of his living.

I blame hormones.

At any rate, as I think back on our 4 days alone, in the middle of no-where Colorado, I think about how we did absolutely nothing and yet had the best time ever. No kids to distract us, no must-see attractions. Just lots of sitting and doing nothing.

And I realized that I'm so thankful that I can sit and do nothing with my man and still feel like it's been the best day of my life.