Our Story

The other day Betty asked me about how Glenn and I met...In honor of the 4th anniversary of our first date (also happens to be what would have been my Grandparents' 67th wedding anniversary) tomorrow, I thought I'd tell our story!

Once upon a time there was a girl who longed for a husband and a family.  

When I moved to Denver in 2007, my sister (without my knowledge or permission - THANKS!) signed me up for eHarmony.  Over the years, I was on and off the site.  Finally, at the beginning of 2012 I told God "FINE!  I'm done with working so hard.  If You want me to find a man, You're gonna have to take care of it!"  

Once upon a time there was a guy who God was slowly healing from devastating heartbreak.

At the beginning of 2012, a lovely friend (Thanks Michelle!) suggested to Glenn that his 5 boys might benefit from seeing him loved by a good, Godly woman.  

Meanwhile, Will (12 at the time) declared that it was SAD that he had a girlfriend (which he had for less than 72 hours!) and Glenn didn't.  

Glenn decided to check out eHarmony and when scanning through his matches, my profile (fantastically composed by my sister!) jumped out at him.  He decided that this Jesus loving, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" reading girl was worth a shot.  

On February 13, 2012, I got the email that "Glenn from Strasburg" (where the heck is that?!?!) wanted to communicate with me, and didn't I want to sign back up (i.e. pay the fees) so I could talk to him?  

I deleted the email.

Remember, I was letting God take care of finding me a mate!

And besides, Glenn was the name of my childhood pastor...not the name of my future mate!

Two days past, and a quiet voice in my heart wouldn't let me forget about this Glenn from Strasburg.  FINE!  I told God...But this BETTER be worth it!  

As I paid the fees so I could see Glenn's eHarmony profile, I told God that if I was doing this AGAIN I wanted to see a guys heart...not the shallow, seemingly endless small talk coffee dates I'd been on in the past.  

As I read through Glenn's profile, I laughed at his descriptions of wild mornings trying to make sure all 5 of his boys (yup - I knew upfront!) had shoes on before walking out the door for the day.  Something in my heart stirred.  

I agreed to start the eHarmony communication process and quickly realized how special this Glenn from Strasburg was and I was eager to meet him.  

We exchanged LONG emails, but he wasn't asking for my number!

Enter rabbits...The boys had shot some rabbits and I offered Glenn my go-to curry recipe and oh by the way, if you run into any difficulty with the recipe and need some on the phone pointers...hint hint hint.

He got the hint.  

The first time we talked on the phone the call lasted 6 hours!  With only a slight interruption so he could tuck a few boys into bed. 

March 5, 2012 (a Monday) Glenn picked me up at my office for our first date.  He drove Glennie's (16 at the time) car and wore a dress polo and slacks that were both in the same horrid puke, olive green color.

  

(He picked the outfit by going to the store and saying to himself, "what would a tall, buff, bald, black dude wear."  He succeeded in picking an outfit that only a tall, buff, bald, black dude could have looked good in!)

Thankfully, it didn't matter what he wore.  I had seen his heart through his emails and our phone conversations and what an amazing, precious heart!  And he had the most gorgeous eyes that lit up when he smiled.  I knew he was DEFINITELY getting a 2nd date.  

Glenn on the other hand took one look at me and thought "she is OUT OF MY LEAGUE and I'm never getting a 2nd date, but boy am I going to enjoy this one!" (blush!)

He met several of my co-workers (including my aunt) and we headed out to the spaghetti factory for dinner and then to a lecture in the Unique Lives & Experiences series.  

Afterwards, we sat in Glennie's car chatting while traffic cleared in the parking garage, then Glenn took me home and came in for a spot of tea with AK and UJ.  

The next day, I realized Glenn was going to eat drive through on his way to his small group, so I invited him over for a home cooked meal.  

Friday, we went out again.

Saturday, we went out for sushi and rented Courageous from redbox to watch at my house.  

The movie made me cry.

It made Glenn cry too.  

I knew I was going to marry him.

Then he kissed me.

It was a dive-bomb kiss.

I think it startled him that he'd actually done it!

He apologized, and I told him not to be sorry and to kiss me again please! 

  

And thus began this crazy, wild, wonderful, ride we've been on ever since.

He realized what a great catch I was!

We survived camping in 5 million degree heat (ok just 115, but still!!  UGH) in St. Louis.  

We explored historic Philadelphia and Glenn survived meeting my loud, crazy, wonderful family.

We made memories and history together.

Survived our first home renovation project together.

I didn't ACTUALLY yell at Glenn when we went camping in Kremmling where I really thought he was going to propose...and then he insisted that I come look at the beautiful stars and then bent down to pick up an empty Gatorade bottle that his foot hit...I didn't know the bottle was there...I thought, "this is IT!"  

It wasn't.

I didn't yell at him.

And I didn't stop talking to him for the rest of the trip like I was tempted to do.

It was a big accomplishment.

I also didn't yell at him on my birthday when he gave me a beautiful Stickley wedding mirror.

It was a VERY big accomplishment!

Then

Finally

On July 22, 2013, he took me to dinner at the Spaghetti Factory and then for a walk at red rocks in the moonlight and asked me to be his wife, giving me his Grandmother's ring.  

He had no idea that my childhood dream was to be proposed to in the moonlight, in the mountains, with an heirloom ring.

Seems God's plan is just all around better then what my plans are!

A few weeks later, I found THE dress.

And on November 10, 2013, I married a man that was so much more than anything I had ever dreamed.

He has an amazing servant heart.  

The heart I saw when I looked at his eHarmony profile was just the tip of the iceburg.

I couldn't ask for a better man to walk beside.

A better daddy for our children.

August 15, 2014, Ben joined our beautiful, crazy life.

We've had so much fun on this journey...through the lows, highs, bumps, and climbs.

We're exhausted!

But so happy!

Life as a member of the Wallace family is such an adventure!  

The girl who longed for a husband and family, found so much more then she thought possible!

God knew what He was doing.

He knew the perfect timing.

He knew just who I needed...and just who needed me!

And the story that God is writing has only just begun!

Two year lessons

Two Years...

It's almost been two years since this day.

Two years ago today, I was practically giddy with anticipation.

Give or take

Today I am nearly delirious from exhaustion after a long week of work, science fair, life...and its only Wednesday!!

Tonight as I was taking a blessedly hot, quiet shower thanks to my loving husband taking kid and dinner table clearing duty, I started feeling rather nostalgic about the last two years.  

Can you be nostalgic about a marriage that's only celebrating its second year?  I say yes...because although it's only been two years, we sure have fit A LOT of life into those years.  

Anyway, I have so many reasons to be thankful...a long list of reasons why I think my husband is basically the best thing since whatever the best thing was before sliced bread!  But what I got to thinking about tonight was all of the things I've learned.  I know I have MUCH more to learn about marriage...and many things that I've learned that still need A LOT of work...its a good thing I've got a lifetime with Glenn to learn them!

But I thought I'd write down a few of the things I've learned these past two years.

1. Marriage is easy...and hard, but there's something more dangerous than hard.

Some days marriage is so easy.  It's easy to love your spouse...easy to be caring and kind...easy to have fun together and remember all the reasons why you got married.  

Some days marriage is hard...life happens...your failures happen...your spouse's failures happen.  You feel like doing just about anything other than being loving, caring, and kind.  

And there are some days (a lot of days) that marriage is just mundane.  Work, housework, laundry, bills, kids...nothing romantic or special about it.

When marriage is hard, it's easier to be reminded that its worth fighting for...to work towards easy days.  

I think the most dangerous times are the mundane times.  These are the times when marriage is the most vulnerable.  You don't really think about marriage in those times.  You just think about getting dinner cooked and forget to kiss your spouse hello.  You're focused on getting tasks accomplished rather than on your spouse.  You get to feeling like two ships passing in the night, rather than a married couple...

or is it just me??  

It seems that the less focused on each other you become in the mundane times of marriage, the harder the hard times become.  

A solid marriage foundation is built on the easy days AND the mundane days.  

I definitely have a lot to work on in this area.  

Me and my type A, to-do list making, get 'er done personality so easily forgets to add the everyday work marriage needs to my list of things to get done.  

2. Marriage is not about my happiness, it is about my holiness.

It's a famous saying by some famous marriage guru...but boy have I discovered it's truth!  There is no better way to discover all of the things about you that need some serious work then to be married.  

Who are you when you're tired?  

Mad?  

Sad?  

Frustrated? 

How do you handle stress?  

Conflict?  

Money?

Decisions?

Who you are in the dark of night gets a BRIGHT light called your spouse shining on it when you're married...and its not always a pretty sight!  

I've discovered things about myself that I would never have expected thanks to my husband (not that he's pointed fingers at most of my failings...just that they have become glaringly obvious to me).  Although it is not easy to learn how many ways I'm far from perfect, I'm thankful for the knowledge. 

 I'm thankful for a patient spouse who loves me despite my flaws.  

I'm thankful for the daily opportunity to be better, to try again, and grace for when I miss the mark.

I'm thankful that I am becoming a better person because of my husband. 

3. Marriage is all about me.

But not in the way you might think.

I'm married to a very human and filled with flaws man.

There are days...seasons...when my needs are not being met.

Days...seasons...when I want to pout and say, I'm not gonna meet any of your needs until mine start being met.  

But as a very wise woman sternly reminds me (after nodding very sympathetically) every time, marriage is about me...

It is about ME loving my spouse.

It is about ME supporting, encouraging, and fulfilling the needs of my spouse.

It is about ME reaching towards him no matter if he's willing/able to reach towards me.

Ideally, both flawed people in the marriage will remember (after pouting maybe a little...or again, maybe that's just me!) that this is how marriage is "all about me" and both will be giving their all, but having their needs met at the same time.  

But even if not, that doesn't change MY responsibility in the marriage.  

I'm not saying that it's easy.  

FAR from it.  

I've cried with and prayed for wives and husbands who are alone in putting this type of work into marriage, and ultimately, marriage takes two people.

I am so blessed to not deal with the heartache that comes from being the only one working in and fighting for my marriage.

So these are a few of the things I've learned over the past few years. I know that in the next two years I'll learn more..and more in the following two years...and on and on!  

I am so grateful to be Mrs. Wallace...to be walking life with THIS man.

Doesn't hurt that he's so easy on the eyes!

I am So blessed!  

Which story?

My sister wrote another wonderful blog post (go read it) that made me think.  Love that her writing always challenges me…makes me think…makes me laugh. 

I wrote a response…and then it got deleted. 

Whimper!!

Then I wrote it again…

Here it is:

Mythology.  Fairytales.  Epic love stories.  Evil being defeated by Good.  I think there’s a reason why these stories are burned so deeply in our hearts.  A reason why we love reading, watching, listening to them.  I think it is the mark of the longing deep in our souls for our ultimate rescue from this broken world by our ultimate Love. 

I think you’re right that the devil has become a scapegoat.  I think too often we get stuck on the ideas of the devil made me do it and original sin (I was born like this) and dismiss the fact that we are new creations.  God has given us new hearts.  He has covered us with His righteousness.  What shall we say then?  Shall we go on sinning so that grace may abound?

OR

Should we be transformed?  Should we take up our armor and stand against the brokenness?  I’m not sure it matters whether our stand is against the devil who prowls around like a lion (2 Peter 5:8) or the thief (whether that’s the devil or death) who comes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10) or check other.  The point is that the world is broken.  And when we focus on the origin of the brokenness we have a tendency to lose sight of our responsibility today.  It’s like I often hear from the boys: “Well, so and so did such and such which is what started this whole mess.”  My response to them is: “I don’t want to hear what someone else did, I want to know what YOU are doing NOW.”  So I guess I need to turn that question on myself. 

I don’t want to hear who started this whole, broken mess.

What am I doing about it today?

Jesus said: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”  (John 20:21)

SO

How did the Father send Him?

“He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captive and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” (Is 61:1-3)

That’s a tall order!  And I’m not very good at it.  It’s so easy to forget to speak life when I’m covered in spit up.  To show love when the house is a mess.  To give comfort when I’m in the middle of so much stress.  Good thing the outcome of the ultimate war isn’t up to me and my forgetfulness. 

I think you’re right that it’s a false narrative to say that we are just helpless little pawns.  I am definitely helpless in many ways.  I can’t die to save myself.  I can’t defeat death and brokenness.  But I am more than a conqueror!  I am powerful because of the One who loves me.   Maybe I need to know that my struggle is against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark work and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms in order to remember to speak life.  Maybe I need to be mindful of my calling to bind up the broken as I hold out life (Phil 2:6).  Maybe thinking of my story as part of a greater Love story where the outcome has already been determined, but the daily battles are mine to fight (with the help of the One who is Mighty to Save) helps me get through the all too often HARD every day. 

I don’t think it matters what story we prefer.  Whether we prefer to think we’re fighting the devil or fighting death.  I think what matters is what we are doing about the NOW.  We have been ransomed from the power of the grave. (Hos 13:14) Why do we live like we’re still bound to it?  Why do we give power to what has been defeated?  Death.  The Devil.  Brokenness.  Why aren’t we focusing on what we can do today to bind up brokenness?  To love with actions and truth? (I John 3:18)

And to wrap this up like John:

Dear children…

Keepyourselvesfromidols.

Grow Where You're Planted

Moving to Strasburg has been hard...

There I admit it. 

It's rather like moving to a new state and starting the LONG process of making friends.

Creating relationships and history and comfort with brand new people.

It's hard because I seem to be in this weird age zone...the people who have kids the age of the older boys are often at least several years older than Glenn (who is ~5 years older than me) and the people with kids the other boys' age are either older or younger...and I just feel like I'm the awkward newcomer that just doesn't "fit" anywhere...

It's hard being at least 45 minutes away from all of the people who I have invested in and who have invested in me these past years.  Its a huge effort to make time (ya know with all the free time I have!) to spend time with these friends and it doesn't happen as often as I wish - but those times are like a gentle spring rain to my dry and lonely soul.  

It's hard being so far from my support system as a new wife and mom.

It's hard realizing that just "suck it up cupcake" isn't working and my discontentment makes it hard on my husband who wants so desperately to right all my wrongs and make my life as wonderful as he can.

"Happiness does not come from doing easy work,

but from the afterglow of satisfaction that comes

after the achievement of a difficult task that

demanded out best."

~Theodore Isaac Rubin

I've been chatting a lot with God about how I need friends.  

Real friends.

In Strasburg.

People who I can call when I'm at the end of me and just escape for a few minutes for a cup of tea and a chat.

People I can sit with at the basketball games...the football games.

People who I can start sharing a common history with.

Time is a HUGE factor in all of this though.  

Common history comes through time investments.

I barely have enough time to squeeze in some sleep with work/family/etc HOW can I fit in creating community...and even when I have time WHERE can I find the energy??

I have been taking steps to try and optimize my time, so that I can get what needs to be done done and still have time left over.  

Things like crock pot freezer meals.

We also made the hard decision to switch churches to one in the community.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Saving time AND serving and fellowshipping in our community.

Off to Church!

We've been going to a small community church.  

The preaching is good.

But it's rather like stepping back in time to when I was in elementary school.

I've had a number of quiet chuckles when the music leader introduces a "new" song...one that I haven't sung since the late '80s or early '90s!

I was REALLY hoping that the church God called us to be a part of would provide the relationships I've been craving.  

That it would be a place to make friends.

The problem at the moment though, is that most of the people we've been getting to know are older.

It reminds me of my first memories of church...sitting in a pew next to a wonderful white haired grandma-type, going through all of the mysterious treasures in her purse (there was always a piece of double mint gum waiting for me at the bottom of the purse!).

This is NOT what I asked for God!

Well...maybe it is covering some of the things...

I now have people to sit with at games.

People who say hello at games.

People who inquire how Ben is feeling since they know he and I missed Church because he was under the weather.

BUT

Maybe I should have been more specific!

I'd like friends who are MY age.  

Glenn has been involved with the start-up of a men's Bible study at church.

He was telling me about the planning meeting they had.

One of the guys made a comment about 

"growing where you're planted."

Glenn was chatting about what that meant for him and being a part of this new group of guys.

It got me thinking about me.

If I had to pick my garden, 

I would be growing in the comfort of familiar surroundings with my familiar friends and support system close around me.

BUT

That's not the garden God has me in.

SO

Grow where you're planted

How do I grow where I'm planted?

Maybe I need to stop focusing on what I'm missing, and start thinking about the adventure at hand.

Maybe I need to stop wishing for what isn't and start appreciating and cultivating what is.

Maybe I need to stop worrying about things I can't change and start being excited to see what God has planned for this season's garden.

What things can I learn?

The soil may seem dry in friends...but closer inspection reveals the potential for soil rich in wisdom and life experience.

What ways can I be a blessing?  IF I grow where I'm planted.

Whether you're in a comfortable, familiar garden at the moment or an uncomfortable, unfamiliar garden...how are you growing in this season?

Similarly, teach the older women to live in a way that honors God.

They must not slander others or be heavy drinkers.  

Instead, they should teach others what is good.

These older women must train the younger women to love their husbands and their children,

to live wisely and be pure, to care for their homes, to do good,

and to be submissive to their husbands. 

Titus 2:3-5

Don't let anyone think less of you because you are young.

Be an example to all believes in what you say, in the way you live, 

in your love, your faith, and your purity.

I Timothy 4:12

Birth Story

I had intended to write posts throughout my pregnancy documenting the highs and lows, my thoughts and feelings, weird cravings and food aversions, etc...  But life happens!  Now, with time to kill between napping and feeding as I recover, I thought I might document Ben's birth story...not that I'm likely to forget the details!  Can't believe it's already been three weeks since my sweet son made his appearance in a rather dramatic way.

Monday, August 11^th I had an OB appointment and after reporting that Ben's movements were not less intense, but were less frequent (although that’s not saying much since he always moved SO much…so less frequent was probably closer to normal for most babies), the doctor decided some peace-of-mind monitoring would be good.  Ben checked out totally fine, but I started having contractions - five minutes apart.  Not super intense, but very consistent.  The doctor gave us the option of staying and seeing if things progressed, but since we didn't have our bags packed or the car seat installed and we were both ready for dinner, we opted to go home to see what would happen.  It was great motivation to get our bags packed!  12 hours of contractions later they went away.  I was so frustrated!!  And sleep deprived since most of that time had been overnight.  Not a great way to start off the week, but I made it through and it seems the contractions got things moving towards baby time.

Fast forward through what seemed like a LONG week to Thursday, August 14^th.  I was extra miserable all day, but managed to make it through the work day and took a walk around Costco to pick up a few things.  Really the blame for Ben’s arrival falls on Josh…when I picked him up from football practice that night it was the first time any of the boys had been in my car since the car seat had been installed.  Josh took one look at it and said "well the car seat is installed, the baby can come now.”  Guess Ben agreed!

About 12:30 that night I woke up to make one of many nightly bathroom trips and walked down the hall to turn the basement stair light off.  Got back in bed and my water broke!  Hurried back to the bathroom to discover that I was right…it was my water and it was go time!  (a direct answer to your prayers Carin!)  Glenn woke up when I started turning lights on and since my contractions hadn’t started yet, we took our time getting ready to head to the hospital.  Jonnie was awake for some reason and was super excited that Ben was on his way.  He was ready to get the other boys up to head to the hospital too, but sleep was important for everyone and we were anticipating a long labor process.

Last bump picture before we headed to the hospital

When my contractions did start, they started in earnest!  No calm 5 minutes apart ramp up this time.    They jump from none to 2 to 3 minutes apart, lasting about a minute, and were too intense to talk through...or do anything really!  Definitely thankful we left for the hospital when we did because that drive was LONG with those contractions.  Not sure I would have made it once there was no break in the contractions!

We got to the hospital around 2am and got evaluated in triage.  My water had in fact broken, so I was definitely staying.  I was between 3 and 4 centimeters dilated, so still a ways to go.  I walked to our room, where we were anticipating delivering our baby boy.  Right about the time they got me settled into the bed and started working on getting an IV started, my contractions started coming one on top of the other and were super intense.  I really wasn’t sure how I was going to keep up that pace for another 6 to 7 centimeters and requested that the anesthesiologist come sooner rather than later.  Pretty much as soon as they got my IV started, the lovely anesthesiologist came and started getting me prepped for an epidural.   Ben was being monitored the whole time and his heart rate was steady in the 130s.  The anesthesiologist did all of his prep work with Ben still on the monitor and just slipped it off long enough (maybe 5 minutes…possible less…it felt like a long time as I was still having such intense contractions) so that he could actually start the epidural.  As soon as he was done, the monitor was placed back on, but I immediately knew something was wrong.  It’s never reassuring when the nurse’s face changes!  I never was able to hear any heartbeat, but was later told that it was 60.  Immediately people started pouring into the hospital room.  Glenn was kindly shoved out of the way.  I was flipped onto my hands and knees and an oxygen mask was placed on my face.  I can’t even express how terrifying it was!  My strong, non-stop contractions were basically putting my sweet baby in a headlock!  When the oxygen and new position didn’t do anything to raise Ben’s heart rate, the doctors wasted no time in rushing me to the OR.  I was so scared, but also amazed at how efficient everyone was.  There were more people pouring into the OR and everyone knew exactly what their job was…and boy were they doing it quickly and with skill.  Ben’s heart rate still was not coming up.  They pinched my stomach three times, but the epidural hadn’t had time to kick in yet.  I just remember someone saying, “just put her under, we’re getting this baby out now.  Go. Go. Go.”  I didn’t even have time to let out the hysterical sobs that were about to bubble up because I was totally knocked out.  I feel bad because I only had about 3 minutes of terror, while Glenn was in a small hallway at 4:30 in the morning with no cell reception (except for a few texts that made it out to AK) and no idea what was happening to his wife or baby.  Thankfully, Glenn could hear Ben cry from the hallway when he came out.  From the time they discovered Ben's heart rate was so low to the time they got him out was SIX minutes.  

First bath

Our sweet little man was born at 4:38am, weighed in at 7lbs 4oz, and was 19.5 inches long.  Beautiful.  Perfect.  God bless each of the skilled doctors and nurses that helped bring Benjamin Lucas safely into the world.

They took Ben to where Glenn was and he got to be there for, photograph, and participate in Ben’s first bath, weighing, cord cutting, etc.

Sweet little feet

About an hour and a half later, I finally arrived in recovery…groggy, but ok…a very reassuring sight for a very worried husband!  After being monitored for a while, they moved us to a room from recovery and thus began our new adventure!

Finally awake enough to hold my sweet son on my own

Such love!

Hannah Jane

Last night as I lay in bed crying and grieving for friends that are going through one of the worst pains I can imagine, the loss of a child, I was blown away and challenged by the faith of Baby Hannah's parents.  Who could, in the face of that kind of gut-wrenching anguish say, "God is still good and working out His will."  This is the kind of faith built through years of trust and refined through walking a path no one would chose.  This is the kind of faith I hope I have, but never wish to test.  This is the kind of faith that stands in the faces of scoffers who say "faith" is just a crutch.  A crutch?  No - a crutch would be alcohol...or food...or death...anything that would numb or temporarily or permanently take away the pain.  There is nothing easy about facing such incredible grief, but a crutch isn't about facing it.  Faith takes courage and strength...and pardon the expression, balls.  It says, I will not run from this pain, but will walk through it knowing, believing, trusting that God is walking through it too.  Faith like this makes no sense.  And yet at the same time it makes more sense to me then anything else.  Faith like this takes a supernatural grace...not just for today or tomorrow with all the hard things each day will bring, but for every day and every milestone to come.  As I was praying this grace over Ben and Rochelle last night, I was reminded of another family who has experienced this type of pain and faced it with this kind of faith.  I don't know them, but their journey has also challenged me.  The challenge that Ben wrote in the midst of his hurt and honest confusion was to love more deeply, lead with grace, see and embrace beauty, and never be afraid to try no matter what the cost. This is the challenge of that little girl's parents...this is the legacy of Hannah Jane.  Her name means Grace a Gift of God.  And what a gift she was and Oh what an amazing Grace Ben and Rochelle have been given. 

Romance

I've been meaning to write a post about pregnancy...how I'm feeling, cravings, changes, etc.  But instead I caught the plague and decided sleeping, blowing my nose raw, and catching up on Hulu sounded like a better plan.  I'm still feeling pretty crummy, but with it being nearly 70 degrees and sunny outside today (thank you Colorado!), I dragged my butt out of bed and went with my husband to pick up a few groceries.  The front section of the grocery store was a sea of red and pink...roses and balloons...chocolates and cupcakes.  All discounted to try and get rid of the leftovers from the day of love.  It was seriously like Valentine's day threw up all over the front of the store! 

It got me thinking...about romance. 

My first Valentine's day as a married woman was well...not one for the memory books.  My husband picked up a few little things and a card the night before while out helping his 14 year old son grab something for his girl friend.  I was sick in bed most of the day.  Our dinner was Burger King eaten in bed while watching Hulu before Glenn left to cheer on the high school basketball game. 


Yes - I did get him a duck dynasty cup.

SUPER romantic folks!!

But what is romance?

The dictionary defines romantic as: of, relating to, or involving love between two people

I think my disappointment came not because of the events of February 14th, but because of the way I was viewing love. 

Love is patient - it pulls over on the side of the road after a long day at work and waits until I decide what I want for dinner and then turns around to go get it.

Love is kind - it makes biscuits at 8:45 at night



His first attempt at using my biscuit recipe.  Guy done good!

It does not envy - instead of being jealous that I'm lounging in bed, it does the dishes

It does not boast - it says he's not a hero even though he's definitely my hero for working hard to fix the leaky faucets

The Super definitely applies!

It is not proud - instead it cleans the toilets so I don't have to

You get the idea. 

I am loved in so many tangible ways - big and small - every day. 

Who needs Valentine's Day when flowers surprise me on a regular basis?

Would a preplanned romantic night be exciting every once in a while.  Of course! 

The man can be pretty romantic...! (the night we got engaged)

But I don't need a holiday to know I'm loved by my wonderful hero of a husband. 


Blessed