marriage: what i'm still learning...

In a few short months, Nick and I will be celebrating our 7th wedding anniversary.

I feel like that's a lot...seriously...but in the grand scheme of things...it's not a super long time. That being said, this by no means makes me an expert on marriage, but I do feel like I have grown a great deal from the ups and downs of these past 7 er ish years, and am still learning. Is that weird?


I'm learning that you can be married, with the preacher, and pretty shiny rings, and even have the most ideal honeymoon imaginable...but still fail to be "one flesh." So important. Such a process. Your dead in the water without it.

Nick likes soda for breakfast, and no amount of nagging or lecturing will change that. So, here's to lattes and icy cold coke's. You win some, you loose some. Meh!

Love takes sacrifice. Get married and realize in a hot second how selfish you actually are.

I'm learning that God designed marriage to make us more holy than happy. The longer I'm married...the more this simple truth makes sense. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying marriage doesn't make you happy. Quite the opposite! But it's a constant reminder of the refining process of holiness. Thank you, Jesus.

Be a team. Think like a team, and don't leave your team.

I'm learning that you must trust each other with everything. Always.

Talk. Communicate, but know when to table a convo that just won't end. Revisit it later.

I'll never understand "Gold Rush" or why Nick likes it, but I do know that he loves having couch company.

Forgive. Forgive. Forgive.

Make dinner. Yes...cook, and while your at it, bake a little something sweet too! You can do it!

I'm learning that there's power in all words. They build up, and tear down in seconds. In my quiet time yesterday I read in Proverbs 12:18 "The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing." How many times have I been that reckless fool?

I'm learning that even though I moved the laundry hamper a whole 4 more steps from the bathroom to the closet...the clothes still. just. won't. actually. make. it. inside...ever.

My spouse is NOT my enemy. We make sure to remind each other of this mid-argument, and it always puts things back into perspective.

I'm learning that little "happy's" make any day a whole lot brighter. The other night Nick came home with something behind his back, and with a sweet smile he pulled out a pack of mini colored sharpie's, and sour patch kids. I love that he knows and loves the little things about this girl.

That's what I'm still learning, peeps. What is/has marriage taught y'all?

XO!
K

grandma stanley

Sweet readers...

The other night I was needing to vacate from life for a smidgen. I was emotional, and possibly even a little lot moody. Why I totally support a healthy glass of vino in times like this...I was needing something else. Something familiar.

I soon found myself in the guest bedroom, starring up at a pink box on the top shelf of the closet. My memory box. Now while I'm not a big "let me keep every little card/trinket/whatever I've ever been given in my lifetime" kind of person...there are a few things that hold extreme value to me, and go into that very box. This was exactly what I needed.

I curled up on my bed with my dog, and lifted the lid...I was immediately overcome with emotion. You see, most of the items in my box are reminders of my Grandma Stanley. She passed away at 62 right after I graduated from high school. She and I had a special and very unique relationship that I will always treasure.

This is my Grandma Stanley.

Isn't she stunning? This was her high school graduation. She use to be a school bus driver, but soon quit to help my Papa manage his painting company. My Papa was illiterate, so my Grandma kept up the books for him.
I was her very first grandchild, and from the day my Mom found out she was pregnant, she began to journal letters to me. She always said she would love me regardless if I was a boy or a girl, but was secretly over the moon when she heard I was a girl!

She was an amazing story teller...voice inflections and all! Some of my sweetest memories of her is when she would read my two favorite books for the millionth time "Babar's Travels" and "Are You My Mother" which she use to say I memorized, because I "read" right along with her, and always knew when she skipped a page. Chance and I use to snuggle up with her on the couch as she gently swept the hair off our foreheads, and would take us on exciting and thrilling adventure's with her incredible story telling mind...but always made sure it ended with "happily ever after." Mom's bedtime stories just never could compare...sorry, Mama.

I thought Grandma Stanley was magical because she somehow made a red stop light turn green after saying, "Ab bra Ca dabra 1, 2, 3...change!" and it did. Every dang time.

One day she took me to buy a doll, and out of all the amazing and pretty dolls available...I picked Maggie.

Trust me...she use to be a lot cuter...and not so children of the corn looking.
Maggie was simple and obviously handmade, but I was instantly connected to her. After years of love, and suffocation, Maggie was sent to Grandma Stanley's for a full body makeover. She would re-sow her fingers, toes, head, and butt back on, and send her back in a box to FL with a prescription bottle filled with Hershey kisses, and smelling like Bounce dryer sheets.

I use to go pick tomato's, cucumber's, and onion's out of her garden, and she would make tomato salad with salt, pepper, and Italian dressing.

This is the last picture I have of her.

 She fought hard...but wasn't at all afraid of death. I've never seen her look more peaceful. She knew. She was welcomed into eternity.

As I went through the box piece by piece I felt the hot tears stream down my cheeks. How much I missed her. I don't typically dwell on the fact that she's no longer here, because I know she's dancing barefoot on streets of gold, and pain free in her new perfect body with the King of Kings. I picked up her bottle of old perfume, closed my eyes, and breathed in her. Y'all, I sware it felt like she was right there. She always wore Boucheron. That was one of the things I asked my Papa if I could have when she passed away. Isn't it amazing how you can remember someone so clearly by their scent?

I allowed myself to be sad for a bit longer, wiped my mascarra stained cheeks, and quietly thanked my faithful God for giving me such a priceless gift. Because of Grandma, I have my beautiful Mom, and because of my Mom, I am fortunate to have the amazing family that I have.

My cup runneth over. Truly.

I love you, Grandma, and can't wait for the day that I will see you again!

All my love,
Kristin Renee'