I was distracted. I was stressed. I was exhausted. So I wasn’t paying attention to the drinking glass teetering precariously close to the edge of the counter until…it totally fell and smashed dramatically into a thousand tiny dramatic pieces all over the kitchen floor.
Before I could cry or scream or react, there was Kyle on his hands and knees beside me, gingerly picking up shards of glass and telling me not to move until he’d swept. And watching him…I was just hit by this overwhelming sense of calm. I held the dustpan for him and all I could think was, “Oh, yeah. I forgot we’re a team. I forgot that when stuff breaks, we deal with it. Together.” And remembering that was like taking in a big, clean breath after not breathing for a long time. I don’t have to figure everything out alone. I always wonder why the stereotype of manliness is in enormous outward displays of strength and bravado. For me, there is just nothing sexier or more manly than watching my husband clean the kitchen floor or check the soles of my feet for broken glass. Thank you, God, for Kyle.
Where are you finding your calm this week?