Gettin' a Grip. Marriage Edition.

The other day, Spouse and I were holding hands in the car and I just had to snap this picture:

While it's not really an artistically beautiful photograph, it is a disturbingly accurate likeness of our marriage. 

Notice that we are gripping on. By God's grace, we are both gripping at the same time right now; although, I would be lying if I told you that it's always been this way. If not for sheer determination to continue gripping when the other wasn't, we would be any number of marriage statistics: divorced, separated, in a lifeless, miserable marriage, incarcerated, singing Cher songs to drown our misery...who knows? 

Those times of not gripping come from a variety of places. There have been times of selfishness that have left us doing nothing but holding on to ourselves. There have been weeks and months of holding on to babies. These seasons are not necessarily for lack of desire to grip, they may simply be a reflection of urgency rather than importance. I know of semi-recent times periods that left me so exhausted that my grip just wasn't very strong--I just didn't have the strength. What I also know is that the Lord gave my Spouse extra-strength so that he could grip for the both of us.  I am so grateful for this season of grippin' together.

Notice we both have cuts. Oh, Sweet Reader, do we. We showed up to this party with quite a few cuts. We've cut each other. When things were really ugly, we aimed for the old cuts. We were a good aim. Not awesome. Oh, but by His wounds we are healed.  Nothing but grace, People. No longer do we want to go for blood. We want healing and growth and togetherness.

Notice the regular background. It's a regular car and a regular phone charger and regular jeans. Nothing that screams "Extraordinary!" This is very much our now. Regular. Schooling. Cleaning. Regular. Working. Swim. Gymnastics. Regular. 

2013 doesn't look a thing like 2012 and feels sometimes quite mundane. But, we are doing it. 

And, honestly, it's hilarity amidst the mundane. We laugh a lot. 

Notice that the gripping is intentional. The background might look boring, but we are doing the thing.  I mean, look at me, for the love of Tetris! I'm gripping his thumb like a joystick. On purpose! 

We are purposeful about our Jesus, our marriage, our parenting and our home. In. That. Order. 

It was not always this way. Grace. Just grace.

And, that's the picture of us gettin' a grip.

Sometimes that's all you can do, isn't it? 

Get a grip.

Seeing Is Believing.

For seventeen blessed days, the longest consecutive stretch since the 8th grade, I have been wearing glasses. Cutesy as they are, I don't love wearing glasses all the time. This little spell of wearing spectacles was in preparation for LASIK.
I've been coveting LASIK for several years, so when Spouse said, "Book it!" I did!
  

Here's a few pics Spouse was able to catch:

Let's do the thang.
I was pumped. I believe like a Reebok in1991.

I wasn't nervous, but they gave me Valium anyway. Ok, then.

The whole procedure took only about 10 minutes or so. It was weird, I could sort of see the doctor brushing on my eye, and I was asking him questions. At one point, he asked, "How are you doing, Melissa?" I said, "Me? Listen. How are YOU doing?" It was fun. Not as fun as a pedicure, but fun to be chatty while tools are in my eyeball. 

Done!

So, I got off of that table, got some more drops in my eyes and Spouse took me home. 

In true Melissa-fashion, I didn't start my drops in the car as instructed. I figured I'd just wait til I got home. Also, in true Melissa-fashion, I paid the stupid tax. This time the stupid tax due was in the form of pain, burning, and pain. The Miley Cyrus eye-skewers I wanted couldn't have been this bad. Spouse managed to get drops in my eyes, somehow, because I couldn't even open my eyes. I'm guessing the Valium was working, too, because I was perfectly cray. I remember saying, "Call em. Call the doctor and tell them it burns. Nobody said it burns!" Never mind that my cornea flap had just been opened and a laser beamed in my eye, no one had mentioned burning. Bless. He just called the doctor and laughed at my fool shenanigans. Anyway, I took some Tylenol PM and I passed out. I slept for 4 hours, woke up ravenous and I could see!! Crazy!

Also, knowing this opportunity may never come again, I took more Tylenol-PM and went back to sleep. I'm pretty sure I slept 16 of 30 hours. This is known as WINNING, Kids. 

Because I am a chronic over-sharer and a total nut-case, I give you this beauty:

I have to wear these when I sleep for a week. They aren't uncomfortable,
believe it or not, but they are the most heinous-looking contraceptives ever.

When I woke up, my little friend,Sara, had left me a love note. Sara served as chauffer on Thursday & Friday while Spouse was tending to me.  She speaks my Love Language. 

Three days later and my eyeballs look like I burst blood vessels giving birth to septuplets, but I can see! I'm still on a strict eye-drop regimen for several more days, but I can see! One of the eye-drops makes my eyes look like I put milk in them, but I can see! I feel a little itchy, but I can see! I can't wear make up for a few more days, but I can see!

As promised, this post was written with 20/20 vision without glasses or contacts! This is one of those times I really thank the Lord for the miracles of modern medicine! It is amazing! I would do it again, for sure.

Dear America

It's Thursday, Y'all, and it's been a while. These two statements are not related what-so-ever. 

Y'all know we moved, right? Well, that was a Baker Actable experience (All the Floridians understand!) in which I may or may not write about. I want to and it's hilarious, but the way this blog thing has gone lately...well...ya know. I don't want to just outright lie.

To keep things super anti-boring, which I am, we had some of our favorite Floridians come spend the weekend with us 6 short days after we moved in. Cause we're rollin', and <sing Montel Jordan here or you won't be reading it right> this is how we do it.

There's also this little matter of schoolin' these crazy little world changers! Listen. My kids are 98.4% Grade Awesome and their standard of schooling is, too. They are not members of the "C's Get Degrees" Club, of which I may or may not have been the president. Somebody has taught them nonsense about "excellence" & "quality" & "diligence" reflecting character. It's spectacular, really. This school load is killing me and not even softly. (Do you sing it Roberta Flack or Lauryn Hill? I gotta know.) Plus, they are hogging my Mac. 

Anyway, I digress.

Since it's Thursday and it's been a while, I've got a few little letters for ya. They range from Shallow to Snarky to Jesus, much like your writer. Enjoy.

Dear America,
Pinterest is not for boys.
I pinned a similar folding-table contraption on Saturday morning.
The Spouse & Little Sister took a mad fast run to
Home Depot, came back & did work
on this little bad-boy before, during half-time, and between football games.
For the win.

Dear America,
Chatting with this little lady about a recent tragic event. The ever-present question "Why?" was asked. She said, "I can tell you why. I know exactly why. It's the devil. We need Jesus."
Amen, Sister. Amen.

Dear America,

Miss-chee-vee-uss is not a word.

That is all.

Dear America,
No, Honey. Just no.
The fact that the parking lot is near empty is irrelevant.

Dear America,

This is part of the 98.4% Awesome of the Big Sister. Her assignment was to brainstorm ideas for a persuasive paragraph. Now she could have gone deep about ending modern-day slavery or Creation or something, but she went to sweaty palms & sweaty breasts. She is my child. 

So, let the child lead us to the Classy Place where women no longer put phones in their bras.

<P.S. Views expressed in persuasive paragraphs by the churrin' are not necessarily the views of the parents. I have never told my churrin' that everybody should homeschool. I have, in fact, discussed the disturbance of the bra phone. Yes, I noticed the incorrect "there". I was blinded by the brilliance & I don't correct this jazz in a brainstorm. She ended up going with the "Holding hands in church". She has issues with this that I do not share, but like a good parent, I laugh at hilarity. .>

Dear America,

Lord willing, my next blog post will be sans glasses or contacts.

I am pumped like a Reebok in 1991. 

While I think my little glasses the Big Sister chose are cutesy, 

being able to see is going to be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. 

So, here they are for the last time. If you think about it in the next few hours, 

go ahead and mention my name to Jesus.