Remember those ooey, mushy feelings you had when you first started dating your spouse?
The way you took over an hour to get ready
and always wore perfume?
Remember wanting to kiss for one more minute
and counting down the days until you saw each other again?
Remember displaying the creative, small notions of your heart?
Then suddenly, whoosh....
A spring wedding rains puddles of work responsibilities,
summer heat blazes sticky moves
... years pass...
fall leaves shade orange in expectant baby news
winter frost chills contentment, and questions rise to our Creator
Seasons have circled, life has orbited, and the ooey, mushy's haven't disappeared, only settled.
It's a comfortable settle, where life responsibilities ground maturity and children pull our attention. Paychecks jump into diapers, and business ventures, waving off fewer weekend getaways and shopping sprees. Celebrating the everyday, at times, is tugged with a yearning for the early years, and then just as quickly as the tugging began, it's replaced with joyful squeals and an inner Redwood ring of marriage commitment.
And seasons circle.
On a surprisingly warm, winter day, we moved to Huntington Beach. Unpacking books and hanging vintage windows, I came across a box protecting love notes that Bryan and I had exchanged. Some, store-bought cards whispering sweet sentiment, while others were scribbled
on-the-go, a neon Post-It of chicken scratch. Endless reminders of a cautious like, then love, our giddiness at togetherness, our
thankfulness to God for intertwined paths.
For hours I read, notes all around, like fallen feathers. Memories danced before my eyes as I relived each word, one moment laughing at an inside joke, and the next tearing up at a verse Bryan had sharpied on a card before my first job interview.
So many love notes... so much love!
When did we stop scribbling sentiments?
In that moment, two facts became stare-me-in-the-face apparent:
The first being that I really need to work on my penmanship!
And the second, a sobering desire to revive our dating days, the days when love notes flourished and flirting was the norm.
I began the conversation in my head, 'If my priorities are my Savior, then my spouse, how are my actions reflecting this?'
Filing through a mental inventory of my days, I thought, 'Am I communicating love to him, the one to whom I daily commit "I do", the person who knows me best? Am I taking giant, heart-wide steps, in practical, small ways?
Because taking extra steps always requires work. It's much easier to do the minimum, in any area of life, really.
In school: C's get degrees...!
With my spouse: He knows I love him.
With my kids: At least I was in the same room while the boys were playing...
But I don't want to live in the minimum, I want the fullest of life,
of my Creator,
of my other half,
of our boys!
I want the love note marriage and flirty glances.
I want to date my spouse!
Scooping the cards back in their box, I set aside my favorites to frame as a reminder on our bedroom walls.
Later, I'll go on a date with my hubby. I'll share my heart, my desire for the fullest, my apology for letting life cloud my priorities.
It'll go something like this:
I miss you.
I love you.
and I want to date you!