Loving my salesman

Iwasn't going to participate in this:  writing about "The practice of marriage." as Ann asked.  Why?  It's too hard.  There are so many hurts that run deep.  But after sitting back thinking, I've come to realize, as I always realize:  My husband is my friend.  My best friend.

We've struggled a lot along the way, and even after 20 years it seems like we still struggle.  It does seem as if it is a little easier now, oppose to when we first began our journey.  Even though times aren't perfect I can also say that, "I can't imagine my life without him."  The man I began dating at 16.

What helps me?  Remembering what Ann always says: "All is grace."

God bestows grace on us...our marriage, our family. 


My husband bestows grace on me, and I on him, and we keep moving.  Keep breathing.  Keep trying to work it out and figure out how to be a success in this thing called marriage and family.  We see our imperfections in this practice.



Today is cold.  I throw myself in his big arms, his big chest before he leaves us (expressing my love) to go door-to-door to sell meat in todays frigid temperatures.  He does it for us...His family.  He's giving us his best.  I know this.  I thank him for this.

I thank God for him.  For he above all—with the exception of the Father, truly knows me...fault by fault, but he loves me with fault, and I love and appreciate him.

I thank God for him: my husband.  The salesman.

In this practice of marriage, I'm learning to give agape love, as best I can.  To receive the love, and remember that just as grace is given freely to me.  I need to freely give it back, and not be so quick to let the hurt of the past linger...so long.

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