Love Song.

I am on this kick now of listening to country love songs when I go for my weekend runs, the sultry, sexy voices of Brad Paisley, Keith Urban, Josh Turner, and Dirks Bentley to keep me company. The best part though, other than all those sexy males, is thinking of my sexy male at home, watching the kids so I can get some exercise.

Isn't he sexy? The one on the left of course. Although Ethan's a little stud himself.

                                                        
In a surprising and somewhat unbelievable way it hits me on these runs how amazing it is we are still in love. A deep, steady, gracious love. I feel blessed.
It hasn't always been and isn't always like that, of  course. We miscommunicate and get on each other's nerves and scream and yell just like everybody else. (Um, have you read my blogs from 2009?) But in all our time together, eight years, two thousand nine hundred and twenty days, more or less, we've at least learned how to work through the shit.
Now when we fight, if I can keep some perspective, there's a purpose: to come out with a better understanding of each other. To make our life together better.
I, being the passive aggressive one, have learned to bring things that bother me up sooner-like the moment it happens versus five and half years later. For example, on our way to the gym the other morning Joey told me to put the extender out on the vizer to keep the sun out of Noah's eyes. I couldn't find it and said I didn't have one on my side, to which he responded, "It's right here, dear."
And it was in fact, right there. Now, a couple years ago, or maybe even a couple of months ago, I would let that little "dear" irritate and fester and hurt me, but this morning I said, "Whenever you call me dear I assume you may as well be saying "stupid, as in, 'it's right here, stupid'."
Bringing things up in real time may seem small, but it's kinda like me getting water from a rock-I consider it close to a miracle.
I know they tell you not to but we fight in front of the kids. I'm a little bit sensitive and worry it might ruin them forever, so I take little moments every five minutes or so during the argument to make sure they are OK and not scared and that they know mom and dad love each other and that we love them and that it's not their fault. The last time this happened Ethan told me, "You know mom, I'm not even paying attention to you guys."
Well, OK then.
But it's so much more than even these practical little tricks that make a relationship better. It's something deeper, something stronger, a current, wild and and at the same time ultimately safe, carrying us along in this mystery of us, together.
Part work and effort, part grace, I can't help but feel like I a being swept along by a force much greater than just me, or Joey. There's a certain "umph" behind us together, a strength. You know how it goes,  "Two is better than one, for when one falls down, the other can pick them  back up"-or something close to that. And boy have we both fallen. Sometimes I'm the strong one, sometimes he is.
OK, mostly he is.

But there's a certain safety in knowing that Joey has my back; he's a safety net to catch me when otherwise there would be only darkness.
Of course it's never quite that cut and dry, and sometimes the "two is better than one" can seem like such a farce-what if all my partner does is trip me up? Throw me down? Hold me back?
I don't know.

How could I ever handle this bundle of craziness on my own anyway????

All I know is that for me,  working through those times it felt like all Joey was doing was tripping me up has somehow got me here: in awe at what an amazing person he is, thankful for our marriage holding us together, lost in the sweet lyrics of country love songs in my ears, his face on my mind, his presence deep in my bones.