My husband made me an omelet this morning. He makes really good omelets.
The kids had already eaten, as they are always starving from the instant their eyes open every morning. So this was a treat for Mommy and Daddy.
I reached into the cupboard to grab a coffee cup. Omelets are not complete without coffee. A very special cup caught my eye. I don’t use it often because of a small chip on the rim. It was a wedding present — it’s white and says “I do” on the outside. It pairs with another cup, brown, that says “Me too.”
Today is our sixth anniversary, so it seemed like the most opportune time to use the chipped cup. I treated myself to chocolate mint coffee creamer, sat at the table, and held the warm cup in my hands. The steam rose slowly and provided a sense of calm.
As any mom knows, “sense of calm” never lasts for more than three seconds with small children around. Jonathan climbed into his booster seat, eagerly eyeing my plate. Kids are never full if they see you’re enjoying something that is clearly more delicious than what they just ate. He received a piece, which he never finished. James suddenly needed some omelet too (which he ate very eagerly).
“A lot has changed in six years!” I grinned at Marc.
At least they didn’t ask for my coffee.
I fixated on the cup as we finished breakfast. I don’t remember how the chip got there. I’m extremely clumsy and we moved across the county—those two factors practically destined the cup for injury. But the chip gives it a personality. It’s symbolic, can’t you see?
I love Marc and I love our marriage. Of course it’s not perfect—we have “chips”—but that’s not the way that I want to look at it anyway. Why focus on a chip when I’d be missing the fuller picture of what I have?
So I smiled as the imperfections of the morning unfolded. Loud kids breaking into quiet moments, me forgetting to bring sheet music to church (see it on the table next to my cup???), a not-quite-clean house, choosing to eat chocolate for a snack after lunch instead of something a little healthier (darn Halloween candy).
Marc probably didn’t even regard any of those moments as imperfections at all. This is one of the reasons I married him. His perspective. He knows what he’s got — a full cup, whether he’s looking at his family, his marriage, or any aspect of his life.
What’s great about marriage (and family and life in general) is that all of those little chips don’t decrease its value. On the contrary, I can confidently say that what some might consider “imperfections”—bad decisions, poorly chosen words, hurt feelings—have ultimately brought us closer together and closer to God.
So lift your cups—here’s to six full years of marriage and many more to come. I love you, Marc!
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