The Life of My Dreams

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One of the sweet gifts that accompanies time away from the kids is the fact that my mind can more easily shift from Mommy to Wife when I’m not knee-deep in laundry and baby wipesI begin conversations that I fail to think of at the end of the night when my husband and I are comparing schedules and swapping abbreviated summaries of our day.

After I initiated this conversation over dinner one evening in Hawaii, I was shocked to realize that in all of our seventeen years of marriage, I’d never spoken these words aloud. I will always be glad that I did…

 “Have I ever told you that the life you’ve given me has far surpassed my dreams?” I asked my husband as we dined in the light of Tiki torches on an open–air patio flanked by palm trees and lush tropical plants.

 
He smiled, a surprised and grateful smile. “No,” he replied, amused by my sudden declaration, “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned that.”

“Well, you have,” I repeated while I stubbornly held his gaze longer than usual.

He smirked at the emphatic set of my chin and returned my earnestness with a grin.

As the cool Hawaiian breeze danced with the nearby flame, I studied the gift God had given me seventeen years ago. Then, I leaned in close so he would not misinterpret my declaration as a reflection of our romantic setting or a fleeting by-product of my burden-free attitude. I took his hand and squeezed it for emphasis.

“I’m not just talking about this amazing trip to Hawaii, honey…” I stared at the ocean-front darkness beyond and searched for words to embody my gratitude.  “I’m talking about five crazy kids and kickball games in the front yard while Maggie steals all the bases, and bonfires on hot summer nights that create sticky-s’more smiles and smoke-laden laundry. I’m talking about standing at the window and watching you toss the football in the yard with Luke and catching your eyes at the end of a day when you’ve got little ones dangling from your arms and your knees and your neck. I’m talking about throwing rocks in the lake just to listen to the plunk, and having a front-row seat as God grows you into the man I always knew you would be. I’m talking about building snowmen and listening to the kids laugh, and dancing the macarena in the kitchen while the dirty dishes wait and falling asleep next to you every night with my cold feet wrapped around your warm legs. That’s the life I’m talking about.”


My husband nodded again, this time, his thoughtful green eyes refusing to let go of mine. A local musician crooned Hawaiian tunes in the open-air bar above us. His lyrics melted into the star-studded night while the hypnotic melodies merged with the rumble of mighty waves battering the sandy shore. We said no more, grateful for silence that speaks louder than words. Grateful for abundant life.

The Overflow: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”
-1 Corinthians 2:9

Alicia

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